Scout & Boo

Awakening,

I feel like our early ancestors,

as I see two sleeping cats,

upon our legs.

Keeping us warm from the

predator that was the cold night.

Self-soothing,

escaped me in my youth,

the trauma of childhood,

the ones we pay

the therapists for.

Yet, now, it seems so benign,

as the kiss comes

from the woman I love,

as she yawns and turns,

and two playful furry sisters sit,

the ones we adopted,

or they adopted us,

rolling in the morning sun,

it comes like droplets of ocean spray

through the blinds

of the bedroom.

Illuminate my little Simbas,

their whiskers glorious,

their eyes ancient,

Egyptian gods,

my hairy babies.

If all the toil in all of time,

if the universe itself,

came to be, just for this,

this moment of safety,

of love,

so I could

stroke their fur,

feel their warmth,

their tiny hearts beat;

little lungs share my breath,

than what a fair exchange,

a great deal indeed.

With a purr and a meow,

a lick of their paw,

I know everything is okay,

everything was worth it.

This is my cats to me,

this, is, comfort.