Tail

In the bleak salt spray, watching baby seals at play, a book, rather a page, steals my mind away -
a book buried within my palms that harms progressive social conduct - I wash my claws of it.
My soul instructs one chapter more,
excused away to the cottage floor
stretched out as a ribby cat
that shamelessly rolls about beside a roaring fire.

The Father begins a conversation on appropriate walking shoes, fetches a map for forward planning
all of which are shoved to a corner nearer the binding,
purring fondly over a place and time, these folk at the table can't comprehend.
Eye-watering is meal time when punctual convention dictates extraction. Food is king.

The teacher is small, so close to ending, humans outside shaking with impatient need for attending -
my heart still leaping far, far fom this headland. The fondest memories of this tale will be with me for years.
The violet sky burns above the page edge, as the author and I share our final moments.
Three more days left and no replacement against predators of my time.

In the bleak salt spray, watching baby seals at play, a book, rather a page, steals my mind away -
a book now sat upon bedside table, the holiness of it still burning within every thought.
My soul instructs to hold on a little longer,
let it linger as we muse hikes upon the cottage floor
stretched out as a ribby cat without her warmth,
shamelessly lusting after a too-long ended fire.