where the writers are

The cat scrapes the ledge. Claws get blunted. No mark on the concrete. 

The cat meows. A baby’s cry. New mothers go looking in cribs.

The cat runs after a ball of wool. It unspools. Winter will be cold.

The cat watches through green eyes. Spring leaves fall. Eyes turn into autumn.

The cat has stripes. Mistaken for a little tiger. Lives with shadows of the cage bars.

2 Comment count
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...got me thinking, again!

Dear Farzana,

Identity, emotions stealthily unfurl, rattling time's wage. 

Got me thinking, again! Thank you.


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Thank you, Lynn. Sometimes,

Thank you, Lynn. Sometimes, one starts with a mundane sound/sight and it leads us to delve deeper.