Carol the cat

Carol the cat

     Carol sees the world
through a glass
darkly, her eyes drawn
to everything that moves
the humming bird that taps
at the window, the parrots
in exhilarated flight
overhead, an errant
butterfly oblivious
     to its own existence.

     Life is handed to Carol
on a plate which is never
empty and she stretches
her limbs as she lies
lazily on the sofa,
mistress of the luxury
to which she has become
accustomed, her fur
worn like a lady
the pearls of her eyes
     glazed with satisfaction.

     But then night falls
and as the house sleeps
Carol sees another world
in which her cat colleagues
move with the freedom
of shadows, free to pursue
their dreams, to come and
go at no one’s beck and call
under the moon and stars
in which their destinies
     were written, long ago.

John Lyons


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