Your paws are comforting.
Furry forhead leans on my arm,
and strokes me in a cute cat caress.
You highlight my after noon, highten
my senses, you open your closed eyes, rising your friendly head, giving me one long stearn glance, which I capture directly and take it within my main focus, melting a bit, forgetting the world and its ***** duties.
Absorbing your shimmering love, your momentary devotion and reciprocal adoration: I thank you, beauty-eyed-cat! Thank you, cosmos, for this magic-meow-pal! For all of them!
Then you swirl and spin around me,
and wager upon the books on my right bedside.
Not appealing much, from the cuddly, resting point of view: hard and edgy are their corners.
When your purrs finaly find the nearness by my left hip, your puffy tale starts swaying up and down in a content slow motion.
I gently grab your lynx-like ear and shake your elegant head; most lovingly, whispering silly little things, only you and I would understand.
Books on the right:
- "Song of the Deer"
- "The Mastery of Love"
- "Eat, love, pray"
- "Indian fairytales and legends"