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Cat

  • Joanne Benedetto
  • Jan 20
  • 1 min read

t

ree

A basketful of cat

My desk won’t do without,

A ball of butterfat,

Most dignified and stout,

Editing as I write,

With a didactic purr,

Saying my words are trite,

While sweeting his fur.

 

But what am I to say

When he upsets the keys,

And all the letters play,

Loving that little tease,

Who softens his critique

To purchase a caress,

The lion playing meek

And interfering less.

 
 
 

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