Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oct 2015
Come on over and love me up.
I so admire your big gold eyes and long black whiskers.

He loves the kisses

Rolling and soft murmurs as we watch TV
How relaxing this is.

Every day when I go away,
my attentions he misses

But count on it:  He won't be still

Perching out on the window sill
calling out with all his will
singing his heart out to neighborhood misses

And when at last I'm home again
he lets me know
It's been too long wherever I've been

Slipping off my shoes, I softly whisper,
"My, such big gold eyes and long black whiskers."

He's not pleased when men come calling
He gasps on smoke and the stench of beer
They're much too loud, and three's a crowd

But he flaunts his charms when ladies are here
With a kingly stride he proclaims his entrance
Endeared are they, he knows in a glance

"Oh, see those luminescent golden eyes and long black whiskers."

It's hypnotic, peering into eyes never blinking
Those wondrous, golden, moon-like eyes
mysteriously veil all he's thinking

There come times when I'm low and sinking,
glow of life dimming, shrinking

No, not again, down I'm slipping
familiar dark whirlpool firmly gripping
                                                        ­           down
                                                            ­               down
                                                            ­                      down

                                                               ­                           down


                               ­                                                                 ­       ever down

Ebbing low, it's of white zin' I'm thinking
Fond echoes of goblet and carafe crisply clinking

But my friend and savior lifts my mood
and my down spiral he does preclude
After all, it's much better I partake of food.

I reflect that an undesired gift,
a "rescue" of best intentions made
whose denial would have caused a rift
in a friendship nurtured over a decade

This rescue gift, truly more than a gift
A travesty to call it ownership

A blessing, tho' one so grand,
it is only I who understand.

It's a splendid treasure of joy and companionship

Life has its troubles, but it could be worse
I don't exist with the loneliness curse.

                                                         ­  T.F.Kaye
Over the years, I have had several girlfriends who had large male cats, whom they adored.  Single and living alone  for various reasons, it seemed to be all they needed.   How many single ladies have you known that live alone with just their male cats?
thomas
Written by
thomas  Blue Jay
(Blue Jay)   
393
   ---, Cecil Miller and ---
Please log in to view and add comments on poems