The Far House (Or ‘perhaps I Should Get Out More? ’) Poem by John Puddifoot

Is that a white cat sat in the window?
Or just a vase, tubby, there, silently?
A white cat watching pigeons come and go?
A two-eared pot that’s made from English clay?
How I regret the days my eyes were keen!

Watching for the thing to move along the sill,
Relaxing with my cup of China tea;
Even for a cat it seems so very still;
For a vase – it seems to move, for me.
And quite the strangest thing I've ever seen.