The Cat

A cat contemplates it's mistress.

The Cat


Curled, content;
black fur dusty from the fire.
I stretch a paw to her
in greeting;
purring as she strokes my ears.


I am her companion;
her child.
I wind around her legs
in devotion,
watching as she adds to the pot.


A worm, a badger’s eye,
a child’s scream.
One for the pot.
One for me.

Laughing, she shoos
me away with the broom;
pours potion in the jar.
Her cackle sends a shiver
into the night.

To me it is a lullabye.