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Bob Wayne

poet, writer, memoirist



by | Aug 28, 2023 | Poetry | 0 comments


She’s just a cat;
a fixture around the house.
Inscrutable; lovey;
when she wants to be.

But she comes home hurt,
and she’s family.
Limping; bloody;
scared and skittish.

When she’s done hiding,
I hold her ’till she’s healthy.
Then she shows her tail and heads for the woods.



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