Oh to have your plaintive voice
Interrupting our virtual meetings again.
Those expressive meows, your speech with humans,
To distract and entertain once more.
But your cuddly, soft paws
will pounce on the keyboard no more.
Your sentinel spot, standing watch o’er your human,
lies vacant.
Thou eater of cat grass,
which took a week to grow
Thou master of the bowls,
so earning the pride of human souls,
Into the night you’ve gone,
Walked on through that door—
Fare thee well, until we meet once more.
© 2021 H.K. Longmore
Musings of a Kunderian Monster 