Chips The Cat

Flickering light
casts a red warm glow.
A slow eye, half opened spies,
each dance of flame
that comes to go.

Purrs and gentle breaths let loose.
Paws limp and soft,
huddled in gentle rest
on the newspaper nest.

Quietness, peace,
in tortoiseshell curls.
The night's dream unfurls
as the day's thoughts cease.

© Mark Sheeky. Permission is required for reproduction.