She flips and flops
a furry sponge soaking up the sun
seeking fiery heat inside or out
maintaining a constant state of roast
inside and out
hot to the touch
pat the pet and watch her glow
This poem was in response to a verb prompt. How about those whiskers? The old girl is 100% pampered, 100% loved, 100% of the time. I’m allergic to cats so this is the first one I’ve had the pleasure to really know, and I’m so thankful for her presence in my life (and house) for the past decade!
The Poetry Patio 