An Original Poem

What a curious fellow, he did mellow-

While staring amongst the brush.

For beneath green thistles, there lay wired bristles-

Orange fur captured in its clutch.

Too big to carry, craving warm dairy-

He waddled to his tin dish.

Slurping up dribbles, and searching for nibbles-

Back scratches his only wish.

Did a careless hand, have mischievous plans-

Hiding his favorite thing.

Or did it appear, witchcrafting a known fear-

Shadow work of the mouse king.

Troubled beyond days, restless naps he now lays-

Hairballs adrift on bare floors.

Surely she will see, when watering the tree-

Anxiety on all fours.

“Cat brush in the house plant” by yours truly