SHE laid by his bared feet
at the foot of his bed
though in his dream they’d meet
which they did in his head.
For this sleek black feline
she’d been in there before,
such she’d never decline
as that cat he’d adore.
A myth it couldn’t be
that her claws touched his toes,
as the dreaming did he
was about that she knows.
The dream she boldly caught
that night she did invade
was the dream she had sought,
the dream she’d long delayed.
Within, she placed her claws
upon his sleep-bound feet,
all performed with no flaws
then and there they did meet.
Though not feeling abused
by prickling on his toes,
he still looked down confused
at each five toes, two rows.
Naught of her did he find
in his dream created
though back to wakened mind
he saw her and stated:
‘Mimi! It’s you—you rascal!’
yet he still adored her
while finding comical
her response, a smooth ‘murr’.
From the thick mattress down
she landed, without woes,
as he said, ‘You little clown—
you leave alone my toes.’
Thought she, ‘Again we’ll meet
as you dream fast asleep
when the toes on your feet
from my paws you can’t keep.’
Frank Sterle Jr