Feline grace
with sculpted face
aloof to one and all.



Slanted eyes
contented sighs
curled up in my front hall.



Fur like silk
laps up her milk
as if it were God's nectar.



Paws unfurl
as catnip whirls
her high; a heady spectre.



Chasing mice
is kind of nice
a huntress, brave and strong.



Bows her head
above the dead
meowing victory song.



On the sill
she poses, still,
a statue of such beauty.



Sees a fly
come flitting by
attacks, for it's her duty.



No cares or woes
my kitty knows
what living is about.



Carefree days
and selfish ways...
a purr-fect life, no doubt.