Free verse № 129512
The cat who would fly
Tearing the paper of my face,
otherwise so placid--thoughts of a past
that's not yet happened; where my kitten
frolics, just a memory
of this frail thing in front of me;
she coughs and pushes towards me,
threading her claws
through the air; life and death
really are this simple.
9 comments
"a past that's not yet happened" the cycle, the simple thing.
It does seem that simple sometimes.
i liked the last 3 lines-
with paper of my face- don't use a metaphor if you won't develop it or DId you mean Off my face, as Dovina asked--
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