"Murmur of Whiskers”





In pre–dawn hush
you pad across linoleum—
soft paws tracing the map
              of my half–dreams.

                Your quiet breath
becomes a tethered prayer,
stitching ragged edges
of my nightly fears.

              No need for words:
your calm is the benediction
       that steadies my pulse
before the world awakes.






.

A love poem plays words
on piano wire,
hitting notes
while the writer scribbles the keys,
scratching out
their feelings
to songs like Drops Of Jupiter.