You think I can’t hear you
just because my eyes are closed;
but every word you say,
lands on my ears exposed.

You lower your voice,
as if that changes a thing;
but a cat can hear the softest tune
that only the wind can sing.

That twitching of my whiskers
isn’t the result of a sweet dream;
any fool must know the sign
of when a cat’s working on a scheme.

© Autumn and Emilita Siders 2017

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