Cats
Cats, who needs them?
My cat sleeps all day and leaves the house in the evening,
but before going it changes from an indolent being that
likes to be stroked to a cooler creature that prefers to be
left alone; it treats me as a tiresome stranger and waits
for me to open the door. Should I be outside and see it,
the cat acts as if it doesn’t know me and runs away if I call
its name. In the morning it waits for me to open the door
to let it in, a jovial feline that gently curls up on the sofa
But there are nights when it is raining, or windy when it
doesn’t want to go out then it likes to sit on my desk just
watching me use the key board on the computer, often it
walks on the board wondering what it is about. But I can’t
bring myself to be as rude to the cat as it often is to me...
like I should be its bloody slave.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Added by Poetry Lover
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