Two little ears above her tiny head,
She was thin since she was not very well fed.
Everyday she would come at my doorstep with a seductive mew,
Waiting anxiously for the bones of last night's duck stew.
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please don't say you're too young to be a poet. Rimbaud was a master at age 18. your poetry still needs refined, perhaps you havn't read enough of the greats to sound like a master, but don't misunderstand - you have the heart of a poet, and after you read and read and write and write you will start to amaze yourself at how good you will get. even in this poem there are hints of the beauty to come in your future works. take care! !
I love cat very much.After my marriage when I left my home for my in-laws house, I took my dear Cat Bob with me.Very shocking is the ending. of your poem.
descriptive and charming...good flow of ideas and images... liked it
very emotional, reminded me of my past days.wordless.........