Δαφνη Ευτυχια Αρθουρος

This frayed grey sack, so tattered and worn
Was once quite full of cat.
Threadbare now, nearly empty,
Holds little more than bones.
But not quite bare, some more remains,
Just enough Attitude,
To demand the attention and affection
That are his due as Cat,
To stubbornly try to deny infirmities,
To acknowledge human touch,
To insist on exploring open car doors,
To complain at nothing much,
And show pleasure at finding a sunbeam
To warm those nearly bare bones.
How long until the sack is empty,
I shall not try to guess.
For this moment, and perhaps the next,
Death stands off to the side,
Knowing all no matter how stubborn
Eventually go to him.
But Roo, the cat, is very stubborn.