The black and white cat, having done its shit
Pads proudly, quietly, contentedly
Across the wooden floor and red carpet
To spend the night in the conservatory
The clock on the green wall tick-tocks loudly
The pink plant patterns on the sofa twist
The dark red diamond cushions clash direly
Crumbs on the carpet that the cat has missed
Colours and outer darkness as the mist
Of night descends to relentless clock beat
The cat creeps back in, maybe wants a pee
No - he’s choosing a different place to rest
A restless night for all. The fuse is lit
I don’t think things will work out happily
Sat 2 Aug 2008
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