Stately, kindly, lordly friend condescend
Here to sit by me, and turn
Glorious eyes that smile and burn . . .
-- Algernon Charles Swinburne

Look at you, perched in an antique wicker chair
as if you own it --
which, truly, you do.

With your front paws tucked securely
under your tawny chest, and your charcoal tail
curled around your hind leg,
it seems you retreat from human touch.
You put me in my place.

Yet, you look at me -- with your head cocked to the left,
and your great eyes the color of a tropical sky,
making me feel as if I am the world --
which, if the truth be told,
to you I am not.
But I, ever wishful,
ever hopeful,
nonetheless pretend.

Copyright © Cynthia McHale-Hendricks