Poetry: Young Tom's Songs
Sing to the queens
Whose seductive calls, loud feline yowls
And scents drift, pleasing and teasing, past the screens
Sing to the mice
Who venture in where warmth’s within
To become a tempting, temporary, timorous, tasty toy
Sing to the birds
Whose appealing shapes spotted past the drapes
Twitter and tease in safety--he can’t pounce through pesky glass
Sing to the toys
Stored silent and still in the attic’s chill
At least he can set his teeth in their pelts when he wants to
Sing to the girl
Whose teenage hands tend books and pens
When they should be caressing his sides, and ears, and chin
Sing to the hands
That toss tasty fare high in the air
To be captured and scattered and chased and slain
Sing to the bed
Where he can lay curled and dream of a world
Where pats and beasts, critters and treats always appear when he sings.
copyright 2010 Deirdre M. Murphy