I have our cat, called Claws, I wish that he were yours. He’s sitting on my knee, I just can’t prise him free. When you were here, my dear, this cat would not come near. But then you flew the nest and left me with this pest. There’s water in my eyes, the blood runs down my thighs. I have our cat, called Claws, I wish that he were yours!
As published in Just Because You Are Growing Old It Does Not Mean That You Have to Grow Up by A B Wyze
You can find A B Wyze’s books HERE
You can listen to A B Wyze’s poetry readings at Beat Radio – the schedule for when A B Wyze is on is accessible HERE. David’s slot is 10.15 to 10.30 each Monday, on the Morning Show – With Ian Griffiths & A B Wyze