Auckland, Musings, Poetry

She Who Must Be Obeyed

A random moment 
involving one cat,
a red door and
my morning walk.
Which evolved into a poem.

The Poem


On the porch
Comfy and dry
The cat yawns.
Not a purr
Uttered at all.
A fixed stare
With green eyes.
From the steps
No creaking sound.
The cat waits.
She'll be back.

29 thoughts on “She Who Must Be Obeyed”

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