Cats of the same color
often light,
tiptoeing through billowing snow
is their favorite delight.

Shall I let the shade
melt the in-between sweet?
The one in the middle
will, and it better be neat.

Why should we delay
imprinting on the mind,
the sweetness between
the light and dark behind?

A lion’s roar, chilling the spine,
to press the best and see—
the print will pique my curiosity,
and a screen reminds me, “Let it be.”

On watch, looking
for the perfect patch to create
happiness, to keep stars,
where they navigate.

There is a sense of despair,
and art is lost at great cost.
Hurt and pain feel the same,
until the morning’s biting frost.

You’re addicted to a glutton
to the taste of humor.
My mind wanders on
and you give me a tumor!

For softness, for tender
smiles that touch my heart.
I am weak in the knees;
so softly with regrets I part.

So I guess the morning

will bid me adiue

thanks to things I’ve done

I never will again do.