The cat, brown and
boring,
Always stared at the
fire...
Until the fire died.
Then off it went
Into tomorrow today.
At night, it had stalking
feet,
And a nose which sniffed
fish
From a mile away.
Come morning, it'd be
there,
Again, on the nice step -
Crying like a baby for
food.
Lastly and leastly, in it
came,
To stake its place by the
fire.
At which it stared again
-
Until it stared no
more...
Until it be dead.
Yes, dead.
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