Bella’s Reflections


A mouse a day would drive me away,
unless, of course,  it is stuffed
with catnip and fluff.

My paws are much too manicured,
my flowing hair too bright,
my countenance too fair

to mar this feline fineness
with such barbaric play.
A good day for me

is spent in quiet luxury
with Slave at my beck and call,
“Time for a comb, Miss”

and she is there, smiling affably
or she will hear my discontented
meow, and possibly feel

just the tip of a tiny claw,
though I am careful
not to push my luck too far.

Good help
is hard to come by.

2 thoughts on “Bella’s Reflections

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