My Canadian Chronicles 11 Poem by David Harris
My Canadian Chronicles 11
He laid there on a stool
his eyes watching my every move
as I sat at the table and wrote.
He looked aloof
as he looked at me,
an Egyptian Prince of Royalty.
His fawn coloured coat
not a spindle of fur out of place
and his tail of irregular stripes.
When I moved he moved and waited
for me to stroke him.
As I did, he gave out a short cry
more, more, more.
10 June 2009
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 9:14:56 PM # 1.0.0.1119
