Now what would happen
by hubert canvas
When a cat's nine life's are spent
And we stand there, feeling insufficient?
It doesn't matter how short or long,
Shown the back or only the tip off their tongue.
Dead they never stop asking for attention
Between our ears, lasting many years,
While other cats come and go and steer
Us into the forest of their fur and here
We discover the meaning of home,
A peek of where one day we will roam,
Seeing Ancient Cat on its golden cat throne.