Look, I have a cat in my cupboard.
What she seeks in there I know not.
I peer in and she stares back,
Eyes glint copper and emerald.
The soft thud of wooden doors
Tells me she crept into the
Dark recesses of her secret lair.
Oft she slips out again silently,
But on occasion-
The shrill clatter and clang of steel pots
Startle me to my feet and a
Blur of tawny fur whips by,
Terrorized by her own noise.
Yet she will be back, lured by
Some strange mysterious whim,
To that kitchen cupboard where she
Resides temporarily within.