Of Cats
At the restaurant we eye amonst laughter—cheers,
The girl whose gaze still swims in tears.
I am the cat about town, suave and sly,
Burnt memories linger, as other memories fade,
As dry notes hum through a twilight glade.
Rhapsody’s wind carries a night’s refrain,
While the railway Cat waits by a rusted chain.
As preludes murmur where alley cats creep.
I stand on the pavement, high and bare,
As the orange cat stalks nightingales, in the air.
Erect and bold, his gaze won’t waver,
In the addressing of cats, he’s their savior.
In Boston the transcript lies damp on the floor,
Hollow men speak, their voices thin,
and the journey of the wise begins again.
The love song trembles, as the naming persists,
of cats, while the old cat sits and knits.
As kittens cavort with spirited leaps,
Ash Wednesday’s song haunts the sacred hour,
Aunt Helen ‘s cat smiles from her ivory tower.
A last stand at the little theater’s heart,
Where the hysteric girl plays her mournful part.
Sunday morning calls with its solemn grace,
The mystery cat prowls through the morning’s gleam,
Out the window, the city wakes from its dream.
WoPoLi 
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