Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Poem for Today

Drift


The low slung cats drift over this night's yellow streets,
Slowly bobbing like tufts of sullen and grey cloud,
Skimming the blacktop with no effort.

With no food to give them,
I feel futile, and purposeless,
I wish they would not be afraid of me.
I long to touch them and make them come close.