The cat is on the ***
Trying to weasel a treat
Meow, meow is all she say

Could be like her, well taken care of
All needs met, each and every hour
All the live-long day

A lingering ego be a bruised apple of my eye
I don't need a death sentence
To know that I'm alive

Sitting in amusement, falling in love
With a muse that visits on occasion
A muse meant for art in art of the amused

Some glances at various watercolors
Hung from walls, strokes and dabs; smears, smudges,
Peeking out from under matting

Dry oceans, rainclouds no longer heavy and wet
Crafted by a friendly schizophrenic
While half in the bag, I'll bet

A smile beneath my nose,
A tear slips from the corner of my eye
I don't need a death sentence to feel that I'm alive

Reaching for a treat, she gives a precious growl and comes:
Sleek and quick. My fingertips feel her gentle nibble
So goes a night at home.