One evening, beneath the tapestry of a violet sky,
I chose to sit on cobblestones cool with dusk.
Shadows of absent cats danced across the street,
their footsteps echo yet silent upon the mind.
Do they ponder as we do? Or perhaps,
they seek the ephemeral joy of a sunbeam?
Not rules nor societies bind their presence,
but whispers of an ancient, velvet knowing.
What of doors ajar, and mysteries half told?
To cross the threshold is to risk the known
for reflections in still waters, for
conversations midream in the cabernet fog.
Explore further:
do/not/rabbits |
conversations/feline