Lardy Housemates

The fat old cat, like poison gas,
Drifts silently from room to room.
She sniffs her food, but doesn't eat.
She brushes briefly on my pants
Before she finds what she's been
Seeking, somewhere soft and in
The sun, and there she takes her nap.
Her fat old master thumps about.
He doesn't sniff, but he does eat,
And, afterward, he joins the cat
In sunlight, and in sleep.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 24 times
Written on 2020-03-04 at 21:21

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