Across the porch at candlelight,
A shadow slips unseen,
Two amber stars awake the night,
Two eyes of molten sheen.
He walks where silver moonbeams fall
And never makes a sound,
A velvet whisper by the wall,
A darkness moving round.
The old tales call him omen,
The superstitious fear,
But he knows no curse or warning—
He only wanders near.
He curls beside the window glass,
Where winter paints the pane,
And watches silent hours pass
Through moonlight, snow, and rain.
A midnight cat asks nothing more
Than warmth and room to roam;
He leaves a trail of gentle purrs
And makes the darkness home.