Tiny paw prints on ivory keys
And yet no one ever sees
The furry culprit in the dark of night
Reflective, gold eyes that need no light
To find the baby grand
The eyes enlarge, she has a plan
To pull the humans from their bed
“A little music will get me fed!”
Dancing tiny soft paws
Tapping in time, delicate claws
The clock strikes 3:00 a.m.
An eerie melody, a lyrical gem
Startles the couple awake
“What’s going on, for heaven’s sake?”
A woman’s voice utters in fear
They both emerge from their silent room
Expecting a harbinger of doom
The impish creature who serenades
Has jumped to the floor, a renegade
The light switch is flipped
Terrified fingers together gripped
Expecting a ghostly apparition
They sigh in relief, a chuckling transition
The man says, “Why do we allow?”
The wee thief in the night answers, “Meow!”
Wishing you and all your loved ones a wonderful Holiday Season and a Happy New Year!
Deborah A. Bowman
The Quill And Ink…
Quill and ink are like a frail, dark rose
Beautiful, elegant, unsurpassed;
But the thorns draw blood and clots as ye go.
The delicate flowers will not last.
But the glorious rose will bloom another day
In the warmth of the Spring’s golden rays.
The quill, the black feather, can turn on you
Blotting out the sun on the white pristine page.
Leaving coarsed lines and thickened loops,
The point skims across the grain of the parchment’s gauge,
Sprinkling blotches of Indigo ink,
Falling raindrops and tears as you blink.
The quill and the ink;
The rose and the thorn;
Teaches you patience and reticence.
So strike up the flint and raise up the flame
To drip the wax and seal the blame.
Copyrighted by Deborah A. Bowman, 1998