The Starry Road Where The Cats Do March

There is a starry road where the cats do march,

Paved of glinting cobblestone and sparkling rock,

Dreamingly it curves about the air,

In the night behind a curtain—nowhere,

Seldom a witness, and the false do mock,

The starry road where the cats do march,

Once this year, believe I see

The cats trot along the air freely,

As if they so naturally come to find

A sort of peace, or curious surprise,

Behind the curtain floating in the star-filled sky,

A world they deem worthy, to leave this one behind;

And how fleeting this road they are roaming,

Only a glimpse or so until the gloaming,

Above the swale of trees into the river of stars,

Past this starry bridge, and past the curtain does it part,

How we as humanity can catch a sight so sparse,

Of the starry road where the cats do march;

Only twice in my lifetime, once from a bench in a park

Did I mark this happenstance at twilights start,

Now in wonder must I be—

To the loneliness of the streets,

That once cats had occupied, have now not been,

And praying alone over this star encrusted arch

That maybe my warm Maybelline had went since she depart,

Maybe beyond is an adventure of fun to embark,

And so I miss my lovely Maybelline but gone is she

Into the starry road where the cats do march