5 A.M., any given Sunday

Seamus the cat roused the covers from sleep early today.
At the end of the bed, she stared up at the ceiling fan.
She let loose a wail, the way only a Siamese can.
I looked for signs of flight.
A moth that might have drawn her sight.
She covets wings.
But wing-envy causes closed mouth chatterings.
This wail was the search for a lost kitten.
A cry rising up from a heart that’s been stricken.
Then she was suddenly silent at last.
Was there ever a better prologue to a bath?

~LD

She's so completely given over to sleep; hard to believe.

She’s so completely given over to sleep; hard to believe.

* * *

You know how you think you know what you’re going to write, but then when you sit down to write it something completely different happens? Yeah, that was today. True story, by the way. The prompt today was a poem in which every line is a simple declarative sentence except the last line which is to be a question. I think there are a couple of sentence fragments in there, but who’s counting? ~LD

Good week everyone!

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