The CAT.

David Wakeling

Old eyes peer out from winter's penury,

Draped in familiar soft sorrow,

The cat creeps on, inflicting time's injury,

Once sculptured we neglect tomorrow,

And recline in constant muse.

 

The agile days when glory filled the air,

When life erupted with song,

Drift like chimney smoke to nowhere,

Again we coil as if it's wrong,

The cat urges us to rise but we refuse.

 

There waits the cat, in silence

It's still moment lacks blood or energy,

But hidden deep in it's patience

There is a hint of melancholy.

A tale that annoys yet was meant to amuse.

Comments +

Comments4

  • sorenbarrett

    A wonderful rhyme scheme to this poem that with metaphor tells its tale with a cat tail. loved it a fave

    • David Wakeling

      Thank you for those comments.I must admit I tried hard with the structure here.

      • sorenbarrett

        You are most welcome David it shows

      • orchidee

        Good write D. We have two cats - one mainly 'indoors', on mainly 'outdoors'.!

      • Tristan Robert Lange

        David, this really moved me. The weariness and longing settle so deeply here…a quietly devastating reflection on growing older. Powerful poem, my friend! 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦‍⬛

        • David Wakeling

          Thank you mi amigo.It is good to see you understand the cat is just time passing.Thanks for your comments

        • arqios

          I like how the moment is kept small here, a cat being entirely itself, with a mix of indifference and quiet presence felines seem to master. A scene that feels easy and unforced with a humour that sits lightly on it. Most thoroughly enjoyed. 🙏🕊️🤩

          • David Wakeling

            Thank you amigo I think you're right with the cat being indifference and quiet presence.Much appreciated

            • arqios

              Most welcome 🙏🏻🕊️



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