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Misty Dreams |
| Forming feline fantasies in coal-fire flames, Misty sits dreaming, a grand English dame. Mem’ries of kittenhood, and a young boy who’d say, ‘Play, Misty – for me’, but the boy’s gone away. Although much has passed, she still has her pride, She washes and preens, by the warm fire-side. Her walk, now ungainly, she remembers her skills, Fast and sure-footed, and the midnight kills. But still she finds comfort in her dwindling days, In a loving home, and the lap where she lays, Could any find better a life so well-spent, No sorrows behind, and a future content. |
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