A
Weird Cat - That Cat
The
weird cat at my side of the room
Asked,
“Are you the blogger that sweeps the floor
Because
the words are just gathering dust –
Do
you need to sweep out; have you no broom?”
“No,
my dankly friend – only my straw whisk do I adore.
Perhaps
you might curl around them and read
How
a mortal man existed only at-the-moment
That the hinge swung from was to will-be, at
the door.”
Said
the cool cat, “Nonsense, You swanky plebe!
Speaking
these words so they play lightly; covering
Pondering,
discovering that they only seem real
If
they are spontaneously spread in minutia with seed.”
“Ahh-haa!
So that is your best taunted purring -
Suggesting
that blood, sweat and tears be the currency?
Don’t
bother. There is no mortal man.
Always,
the bleak winter turns into joys of springing!”
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