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![Image for the poem Ce Chat [This Cat]](/images/uploads/poemimages_webp/310854.webp?1528035042)
Ce Chat [This Cat]
This cat is not dead,
He is simply resting at my feet.
‘Lest He be My Brood,
He would suckle at my teat.
Ce chat n'est pas mort.
Il se repose simplement à mes pieds.
De peur qu'il ne soit ma couvée,
il téterait à mon trayon.
This cat is not dead,
He is simply resting at my feet.
‘Lest He be My Brood,
He would suckle at my teat.
Ce chat n'est pas mort.
Il se repose simplement à mes pieds.
De peur qu'il ne soit ma couvée,
il téterait à mon trayon.
Published 3rd Jun 2018
Author's Note
I could not resist snapping a pic of My Beloved Cat, Flynn; he looked more passed than reposed; thus, I penned this explanation in French as a [weak] poem.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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The author encourages honest critique.
3rd Jun 2018 3:11pm
3rd Jun 2018 3:12pm
Anonymous
3rd Jun 2018 4:00pm
Must be a thing with those black and whites...he looks just like my Vondel - brought me a huge smile this morning! They’re so awesome!
Xoxo Taryn
Xoxo Taryn
4th Jun 2018 7:12pm
I hope Vondel is well. I have deux chats, and uno perro -- all black and white. Such Heavenly Animals.
