Wednesday, May 1, 2024

My Old Cat

 By John I. Blair

Curled in a circle of gray
On the chair by the door
She sleeps most of the day.

Her nose under her tail,
She dreams of supper
Or being young again.

It's seventeen years
Since we took her in
And she took us on.

She purred loud,
Ran fast and climbed high
When she was a kitten.

Now she limps about,
Needs help up,
And still purrs loud.

Kneading me with her paws
She solicits my attention
When I should solicit her.

What could I learn?
Unending patience, unfaltering trust,
Unconditional love.

Also to save my energy
And never ignore
The sound of a can being opened.

© circa 2002 John I. Blair

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