wandering up to the side of the curb
followed us home with of course not a word
frail as a walking stick, mangy as hell
those wide green eyes put us under a spell
And he should be inside out of the cold rain
but sits he upon our porch always remains
outside the wondow pane crying for treats
waiting for someones home someone who needs
an ever affectionate cat!

Poetry by Joe Fern
Read 872 times
Written on 2009-06-09 at 04:50

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