Black with flecks of white under his chin
across my manuscripts with muddy paws
treads my furry pet
butts my pen with his head
then with amber eyes
looks at me dolefully
as if to say “Did I do something wrong? ”
Again, with head gives my pen another shove
rolls on his back to have his tummy rubbed.
Drippy tap, ears alert
flick with paw makes muddy dirt
will sit in sink all day long
when tap washers gone.
Curls up near fire on cold night
beams a smile, I’m all right.
Darkness does not like
rather chase butterflies in sunlight
never far does he roam
loves his family and his home.
29 June 1978
Author’s Note:
Lucky was our first cat which we had for eleven years. He was all black when we first got him hence his name, and as he grew older little flecks of white grew under his chin.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem