Poetry

That May Be, 22 (143.)

There is a warm feeling
that accompanies a loyal cat,
and lovely is the feline
who chooses to sit with me.
I will defend this fluff with everything I have
and none shall make her sad,
and all the chin scratches
and all the head pats
shall be hers.
She likes to jump on the table
to meet me at eye level
so when I reach out my hand,
she can push her head forward
and tilt it for maximum pet range.
Get the nails involved, and her chin goes up,
ready for those sweet scritches.
For a skittish sweet being,
she enjoys affection.
I will give all I have.

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