Purring lapmate,
paws spreading, pushing,
curling claws against my chin
(gently, lightly drawing caution,
like goosebumps,
to the surface)
curling like a baby
snuggled on your back.
What or who will take your place?
The siamese yowl,
a surprising voice,
chattering in conversation.
Who will ever sound the same?
The paws beneath the door
when we were separated,
however briefly,
by the artifice of the material world;
they now remind me
how blessed I am and was,
and am,
how blessed were you,
and are you now,
to have shared time and space in love
with no boundaries of species,
doors, language, or claws,
to ever separate us.
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