Cat

June 9, 2017

He was a dent in a bed,
Its impression like handprints in kneaded dough,
Still warm where life seeped into it,
He was nibbled butter, softened by stolen sunlight,
He was drowsily half-closed eyes,
And light that spills from windows like warm honey,
He was an engine,
Wheezing to life on a frosty day,
He was a tumbleweed of hair,
Sighing as it glides,
He was an extra cushion,
A sagging sofa,
A prince.

Emily Reader

Oh dear…

February 25, 2017

behind-me

Here we go again

November 21, 2016

monday

a-halloween-cat

August 10, 2016

cat&cash

Good morning again

November 10, 2015

cats

Good Morning…

November 9, 2015

catreddot

hhighfive

What, today…?

May 30, 2015

caturday