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Replying to a comment on:
Cat Feet (Free verse) by Niphredil
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?
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