“I love cats because I enjoy my home; and little by little, they become its visible soul.”  –  Jean Cocteau

I believe his name is Pablo

not just for the artist

but also the poet

the one whose silvery

tongue, slides in and out

of my dreams

*

le petit chat noir

 curled up in

my palm creating

his own corner

de coeur

*

only three weeks old

the eyes still dark like

the gloss of his fur

too soon yet

to bring him home

*

it’s been a decade

since i’ve lived

with a cat

my youngest son took

his – when he parted

*

a niche

caché à mon coeur

arms open, waiting

longing to stroke

his silky black fur

*

hypnotic opus whispers

bestowing solace

allowing me to adore you

prompting my behaviors

putting me in my place

*

j’attends

divine inspiration

mysterious muse

oh passionate one

chez moi est chez toi

*

Bisous,

The human, Léa

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