Izzadora Is No More Poem by shimon weinroth

she won't run the stairs
at break neck speed
flopping her mischievous self
before our feet tripping

I shall miss her green eyes
hypnotizing stare, meowing beware
alighting on our laps
or meowing us to attention

whiskers twitching, trembling
black fuzzy face craved
petting, before break fast
fondling before the day's chores
protocol her choice

there was no nook
nor cranny or corner, shelf of
ignore, that was not visited
inspected and tested

she never tired of cleaning and licking
including her brood of humans,
18 years we had the pleasant pleasure,
treasures of her company

now I pass the stairwell
and no paw will playfully
cuff and scratch and sigh
to snatch a moment of time out

she seemed to know the myriad of moods
of a household when anger swirled
stepped lightly, or when glee took over
would spring with grace from place to place

ah me, Izzadora is no more
but I am wrong for she is forever more,
we will bury her under the Kikanyou tree
let God shed his grace on her

Shimon who pretended to ignore her