When I Saw You sleeping,
I thought that the shadows under the bed had made love, and had kittens. But then two Orbs gleamed and flashed, and I saw the Ocean bare her face to the Moon.
When I Saw You,
I thought the Sun had spread so much light that it had run out, and could no longer glaze the world but then I saw that sweet patch of black frosting soaking up so much light and warmth that Old Baker Sun couldn’t keep up.
When I Saw You, cringing, hiding, running away,
I despaired to ever caress your ears, rub your chin, and stroke your spine, and so I slunk into my own misery slumber.
But then I Saw You,
(or maybe I saw the Ocean and her sister the Moon) standing on my chest and holding me down, and I felt the warmth of black sand, a volcanic shore of delight.
When I Held You,
precariously on my lap I thought my knitting had grabbed its needles and begun to knit into my legs
but when I flung it off I realized that your claws had claimed me as one of your Blankets.
When I Heard You, year afer year, insisting,
SIT HERE, and DON’T FORGET THE BLANKET, and PET ME HERE, please
a plume of laughter erupted every time that earlier might have chased you away
but now only served to grow the loyal warm rock that held my heart in your grasp.