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Ode For Furball

by Linda Jenkinson

furball

I miss the cat’s meowing ways.
A derelict, at best a vagabond
Whose wide green eyes read my thoughts
While patiently waiting for my response.
The food and drink were freely given
But ensconced in his purloining ways
He pilfered my heart and then …
The cat crept furtively away.


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