Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Apr 2016
Though she pounces,
Her touch is soft,
And her snarl holds no malice.

In her eyes the purest innocence,
That could never ****,
Or know pain or sadness.

Her tiny frame will not grow,
Into a predator,
But a companion who's subtle fur,
Will be a comfort and soak up,
Any tears her master may cry.
For K
Parsavagely Kompenere
Written by
Parsavagely Kompenere  19/F/Yorkshire
(19/F/Yorkshire)   
Please log in to view and add comments on poems