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Patricia's Poetry Place > The Kitten

I sniff to the left,

I sniff to the right,

Hoping to catch a whiff of delight;

A tidbit perhaps for Robin's egg stew;

For desert, I would love a titmouse or two.


I steal through the brush,

         with eyes of green fire;

                  with muscles as taut

                          as the strings of a lyre.

My whiskers are full of dust and dry leaves -

In fact             I believe              I must



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