With eyes that gleam like emeralds bright,
And fur as soft as moonlit night,
The cat does prowl and hunt with grace,
A creature of exquisite face.
With lithe and supple body tense,
It stalks its prey with stealthy sense,
And when it strikes, its claws so sharp,
The victim falls without a harp.
But cats are not just hunters wild,
They purr with pleasure like a child,
And curl up warm upon your lap,
A soft and furry, soothing nap.
They're independent, free and proud,
And when they choose to be allowed,
They'll grace you with their company,
A privilege rare, as all can see.
Oh, feline grace, how you do charm,
Your beauty brings us no alarm,
We thank the gods for your felicity,
A gift of nature's serendipity.
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