Free verse № 141568
Cat Feet
Everyone has grown cat feet.
Slinking up behind me,
Tiptoeing along the padded floors,
Even the windows swing shut in cushioned frames
Which never creak or slam.
Poor things!
Their expressions are bent out of shape.
How often they contort their exaggerated faces
In a sweaty, good-natured endeavor
To be of assistance.
And then they back away, uneasily damp.
But I donât mind.
After all, what more could one expect
From those poor, nervous people
With cat feet?
18 comments
Incidentally, have you ever noticed those terrible facial exaggerations that people make when talking to a person who is hard of hearing? As if an invisible someone was stretching their expressions just a teensy bit more than they ought.
Fog
The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
"They tell me that I can't hear anymore.
And I think, how silly;
Can't they see that, lately,
Everyone has grown cat feet."
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