She doesn't understand her
biology.
Her need for extra attention.
Her desire to
chirp and meow
constantly, and raise her
**** in the air.

She gazes out the
window with
longing in her
golden eyes.
Her calls through the
screen bring no
visitors.
Little lonely orphan.

She sits with me while
I write at my large
maple desk.
She swats at the
purple orchid.
It drives her batty.
I've been there.
Lost in the
smell and taste of
flowers.
She wanders over to
the Starry Night
painting and looks
dizzy at the sky.
She lifts her **** in
the air and stutter steps
rapidly with her
back paws.

When I got her and
her sister, I thought they
had *****.
I named him (her)
Bukowski.
She comes to the
name
and seems to like it.
Pray for me.
Buk's in heat.

My old cat in spring
twitches his ear at passing bees
and sniffs at the lavender scented breeze
then he warms his belly and starts to purr
with a little less winter stuck to his fur

He comes as if on a mission, first around my feet,
rubbing against my legs as if asking permission,
then ever so carefully he jumps up onto my desk,
sits on the edge for a moment looking at me. Then
he turns his back allowing his large tail to hang off
the corner edge of the desk and like a fisherman, the
tail his line and bait, he slowly sways it back and forth
as an intentional invitation for me to play the "Tail Game"
with him. Left and right, back and forth, slowly, enticingly.

It swings to the left and my waiting fingers gently grasp it,
give it a light brief shake and let go and it swings back
onto the desktop, then back and forth for as long as I care
to participate. Cunning little attention gaining feline fellow
that he is.

Eventually I will tire of the game and require two hands
on the keyboard, thus ending the event, he will then turn
around and lay down right in front of me on the desktop
purring his pleasure song, and blinking his big seductive
contented "I got ya' again" cat eyes.

A watchful cat sleeps
The small mouse skitters forward
The sly cat smiles knowingly
He soon will have his dinner

The Little Cat

The little cat sat in the window
She was watching the snow falling outside
This was her first winter and Christmas

Inside was at all Christmas tree
It was decorated with bright lights and ornaments
The lights and sunlight made them glimmer
At times it looked like they were covered with diamonds

The little cat loved to look at them and sit under the tree
She had never experienced the magic before
Recently she had been adopted

As she sat at the window she had a deep feeling of contentment
The snow began to gently fall outside
As she watched the scene outside she heard faint music
She closed her eyes to listen
She was grateful for her new home and owners

The little cat

Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
U stole My Heart, this morning.
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Let's watch the Stars burning.
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Where did u learn to purr?
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
You're a Kitten fully of fur.
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Your Heart, was Once My Home.
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Don't in the streets, U Roam.
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Who, let the Dogs out?
Pretty Cat, Kitty Cat.
Why do U make me Shout?
🤭

There's nothing I wouldn't do for you
admire your sheen
and your amber coat
that chases the rainbow
I gladly interpret your meow
as a passion for food.
And your purr like a kitten
to the end of the day.
Man and cat can go far
Life seems rosy with you as a companion

She is so demanding
No pride, just begging

Haughty kitty
You have food
Quit your mewing

my cat sits in the windowsill often.
i wonder what she thinks about
while laying in the light
of the setting sun

does she dream?
does she think about me?

when my cat sits in the windowsill
i appreciate how pretty she is
with her black and white fur
and yellow eyes

i like it when she gets distracted
by tiny things
like birds or flies
or the neighbours cat

if i were a cat in a windowsill
i think i would be at peace