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Rated: E · Poetry · Mystery · #2145569
Maybe the cat could teach me a thing or two. (36 Lines)
Wishful Thinking

Kathleen McNamara

“That house was truly frightful!”
I could almost hear you say
with an eye-roll and disdain,
“Cliché, cliché, cliché.”

The setting here I need not write.
It’s been used so much before.
Maybe my nerves were getting to me.
I swore I heard a creaking door.

The house now mine; an inheritance
“and everything in it,” said the will.
An awful Gothic edifice
On a lonely windswept hill.

I felt a watcher in the room
but I went that day alone.
I sensed the house was judging me.
I quickly grabbed my phone.

It was then the shadow slipped by me
and headed for the window seat.
All black silk fur and almond eyes,
it decided we should meet.

The silence thick between us,
with a steady measured gaze.
Dismissal was a curled tail twitch;
it was time for him to laze.

I took refuge in a wing-backed chair,
and gazed at the window sill.
I was stuck with the snooty feline.
He was included in the will.

I thought that we could get along.
He could teach me a thing or two.
I decided then to keep the house
because I knew what I wanted to do.

I knew I would love the silence.
As a writer, I had need of that.
That left me with just one final need…
“I wish I could write as mysterious as a cat.”

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2145569