Litter of Seniors

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I take note as we age, the animals and myself. Not too much deliberation.  Feline etiquette abhors self-pity.  Thus, the Cats being their own divinity.

My wife has gone to parts known.

Errands to be run about town.

And, with certainty, this is her home.

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I am left to my own devices with one dangling carrot…
An aged four-legged friend, amid her last leg of the tour.
We have met once or twice, of that I am sure.
But with good discretion I must admit,
She owns my wife…
I am just the half wit.
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A poet left alone to mind her thoughts…
Cannot help but wonder in this unusually quiet time,
‘What do these animals think…as I… slowly lose my ‘spice for life?
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As I tender these ransomed reflections…
there is no room for disregarded affection.
Whether upon expiration or other times of sullied misdirection.
No pardon is given when decorum is given to exemption.
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A feline stalks her life with great self-regard.
To be, intrinsic to a cat of older years
One must postpone their own fears.
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For what is a cat, but a private resident to self-love.
Those befriended by one…take heed to rigid examination.
Young or old,
Lynx or stray,
To feel poorly of oneself is simply an emotion…
that gets in the way.
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Someone Else’s Air

Could never have imagined where this shaggy road would lead.

Where would our little self-centered world…be without the unique grief

…we unleash?

Lonely pines, so precious when well-adjusted.

Yet,

nothing but mere specks in someone else’s air…when parted.

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I dare-say,

we are all maiden voyagers…sight’s unseen.

Not a one of us asking for…what has been given…

in the dirtiest of snow-white dreams.