Sunday, 21 October 2012

The Cat

The Cat

There is a certain softness there to be found,

A catch in your breath, a sigh, this warming,

Subtle as a feather drifting to the ground,

So bright, alive, a raging fire forming.

An eggshell hides gold secrets therein,

Placid cover to brilliance concealed,

Every crack makes heart pound at ribs within

Shining leaks lauding the wonders revealed.

The soft feline slink, an effortless motion

Independent, yet kindness overflows,

Ferocious love, every step devotion,

A burning that, with every breath, just grows,

But to cage such feeling in words seems cold,

They would be unworthy still if written on gold

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