The sun was young when he rose
His escapade at an end, he meowed at the hostess.
Then he meowed louder.
She rolled out of bed
Schlepped to the door
Opened it
And turned around,
hoping to return to dreamland before it was too late.
Not on his watch.
He hated to rush her, but his band expected him home.
She had a second door to open.
Leading her downstairs was an easy feat
Out the door even easier.
Even if it meant he was never welcome again
He had to give thanks
From the safety of the fence.
Beyond the ashen wheat, there sat
a cat.
She heard him,
Trilling
Chirping
Meowing
Then finally speaking
In her own tongue.
"Forgive my deception,
I mean you no harm.
But I must voice my gratitude.
Very kind, you are, to felines
Even false ones such as myself."
She stepped back.
"What are you?"
Voice free of fear, mind apprehensive.
Calm was winning, but only barely.
If she sprinted,
she could return to the cottage in record time.
"I am but a humble shapeshifter.
I am partial to cats.
As are you.
May your kindness persist
towards all living things.
And may we meet again
Someday."
Then he turned around, and jumped into the grass.
Author's Note:
I'm not the best at poetry, nevermind free verse, but I hope this holds some water.
YOU ARE READING
A Mouser in the Hearth
FanfictionJohn's lunch takes an unexpected detour. (THE FAB YEARS) WARNING: language, fantasy violence, gore, occult themes & imagery Disclaimer: I do not own The Beatles, their songs, their covers, or the solo work of its members. Nor do I think of them as...
