John I. Blair
Oh Nefertiti, Queen
Of con artists,
You who purr even while you sleep
And always seem to know when food’s about.
How long we’ve loved you
Since the day you leapt into our lives
Clinging to our window screen
And crying to come in
To the warm kitchen full of delicious smells
So much better than the cold and hungry world
You’d known till then!
So many years have passed . . .
So many lives you’ve lived . . .
Across the drapes and furniture;
The femme fatale,
Now one and now another
Male within your household,
Not choosy if they’re human, dog or cat;
The escape artist,
Just inside the door,
Looking for any chance to get back
To the wild outside,
Only to find that inside was, after all,
Where you really craved to be;
And now the old lady,
In the sun by day,
Curled outside our bedroom door at night,
And always where we least expect,
To trip us up.
How can we judge you?
With your Abyssinian eyes
And salmon nose
And paws forever kneading, kneading . . .
Needing us, as we need you,
Reminding us what kindness is,
And that love forgives all.
©2001 John I. Blair