Music of the Cat

Meowing, slinking
Hide under the sofa
Running aimless
Under and then over
Stop to lick your fur
Then remember where you were
And give out a plaintive mew
And crouch down flat
And start to make the music of the cat

Prancing, pawing
Partake any pleasure
Balls of yarn are
Such a priceless treasure
Toss it in the air
Then pretend that you don't care
If a human observes you
engaged in that
For they can't hear the music of the cat

Close your eyes and surrender to an hours sleep
Twitch your ear lest they think that you don't hear
Warm and safe on the top of the TV
Only cats can know the true meaning of free

Prowling, pouncing
Rub against a pants leg
Wishing, hoping
But far too proud to beg
Curl up in a lap
Take yourself another nap
And if they stroke your fur
You'll purr for that
And once more make the music of the cat

Robert Wynne ("Doc") is a gentleman rogue and a scholar of truth. He has been, at alternate times, a writer, an editor, a salesman, a teacher, a freelance computer consultant and a charming vagrant.

Find more by Rob Wynne in the Author Index.

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