Cleo
by Ivy Ferguson
The regal way she disposes of foes.
Catch a proud stare from her fierce eyes of green,
Could she have once been a goddess or queen
In some long-lost palace, light-years away?
Now she roughs it with me, sharing my day -
Sharing the loneliness, sharing the cold,
Does she remember the glories of old?
Mongrel they called her; an unwanted pet
But remnants of grandeur cling to her yet.
Does she love me? I ask, but she'll never tell,
But one thing I know - I'm under her spell.
Poor as I am and a failure at that -
All trivial things to my regal cat.
Maybe once Empress of all she could see
But nevertheless she has chosen me.