Ginger. The Workshop Cat. (A True Tale)

Lying at ease in the firelight.
Hunting alone in the dark.
Staring, with eyes hypnotic,
As it stalks the doves in the park.

Old Ginger, we fondly call him.
As we watch from the workshop door.
As he gracefully crosses the rooftop,
Then springs to the concrete floor.

The doves fly around in panic;
A white cloud of fear and fright;
If only they knew what we know.
Old Ginger has long lost his sight.

by Brian Joseph Dickenson

Comments (1)

Cuteeeeee......but poor unaware doves....and poor Ginger havig lost his eyesight! Preeti