Old Ginger Cat
Whatever the books sayshe loves to make eye-contactcurled on our laps.
Purring on our kneesshe keeps her claws retractedas she kneads skin.
Allowed on the bedshe fights to keep eyes open:bliss surpassing sleep.
Late at night she walksup the bed to the pillow,meows for a hand’s touch.
Neighbours bring home fish.She carries some with much prideto our kitchen table.
She was old, metal pinsin both back legs when she came.What made her like that?
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