“... that brilliant golden bundle ...” *
In memory of Milo

A certain flick of his, oh, so feline scepterAnnounces you have entered his domain,And a sideways glance confirms your curtsy,Absent which, a toss of his head dismisses youAs he pomps away to his favorite roomHis intent to ignore you until you repent.
But even repentance will hardly helpIf you mix with his human train seducedBy their habit, to him intolerable,Of singing! Musicians! Snort! Singers! Hiss!Were his mercy any less majestic,He would banish them his presence forever.
Still, saving his grace, he repairs to purrHis pleasure in himself where none can hearDeigning to visit again when the singing stops.But, alas, even royalty must keep the time,Though the faithful weep and call his name,Unable to imagine life without him,
For though a prince of purrs in bundles of gold,Lusts of tyranny troubled him never,His nature too pure to act so feral.He loved his people as all great monarchs do,Leaving them alone to walk each their pathsIn search of a life where love’s the cat’s meow.

*Milo’s owner

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