A cat’s life for me, a pampered domestic cat
with ample laps at hand for caresses
and gourmet food at the drop of a hat;
a garden safe from marauding dogs
where I could hunt discreetly for
that tempting furred or feathered prey
which I devoutly hope would escape me.
I’d only do it for the fun, to keep my wits alert
with stalking, creeping, leaping play
and a comfy bed at the end of the day
where in a coddled coiled heap
I would purr and sweetly sleep.
Celie Gunther’s conversible cats – their life is somewhat freer than I envisage for my second coming, but they are contented cats.
For the prompt at thepoet’s pub last night , Abhra asked “do you want to be reborn as who you are? Do you think you could come back like a bird? What would you be looking for if you come back?” I missed the cut-off, so have posted it instead for the pub’s Open Link Night