snowy sunday afternoon

It appears that March isn’t going to be a lamb after all. The month came in like a lamb but has now changed completely. The last couple of days were spring like and it almost made one want to put the winter boots away but today you would never know  as it has been snowing since seven o’clock this morning which is what the weather man said. Do they always have to be right when the weather is taking a turn for the worse?

Here is a poem I wrote about B J our little calico cat. She was born underneath a house trailer in the crawl space and always retained some of that wildness she inherited from her mother. She was always a little timid and shy and didn’t accept change at all. A few years ago she decided that she was going to move upstairs. I made the mistake of feeding the two cats up stairs when the work was being done  in the living room.

B J

1999-2012

There you were poking your head out from under the crawl space,

while your mother ate on top of a  bale outside the crawl space.

You watched bravely beside your brothers squinting  into  the light,

You pounced on some loose pieces of straw with all your mite.

When a stranger scooped you up into her arms,

you quivered nervously and peeked up in alarm.

She gave you a gentle kiss on top of your head and set you down,

you scampered away until you were a long ways down,

under the crawl space,

where you felt safe.

You sighed in relief when she left and ventured out,

You ventured further and found many adventuresome routes.

You saw the stranger several times from a safe distance,

You maintained a safe distance.

One day she picked you up and tucked you into her jacket,

You made an awful racket.

Then you found yourself a long ways away,

you were transported straight away,

to a small room.

You scurried under the bed to cuddle with a teddy bear,

You were as cross as a bear.

You crept out from under the bed to play with a wiggling string,

and attacked it with zing.

You had a feisty spirit underneath that sweet face,

You were more that a sweet face.

You began to explore,

all over the floor.

Then one day  your brother joined you,

You ran and hide behind a shoe.

Your hissed angrily,

as he fled.

You met an old cat, who reminded you of mother,

she became your foster-mother.

You ruled the roost until the very end.

THE END

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About mhembroff

I am the author of Bess's Magical Garden, a middle grade novel and picture book Gramma Mouse Tells a Story. I am the member of the Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators, Writers Guild of Alberta and Rave Reviews Book Club. My series The Ghostly Encounters and other short stories can be found on https://www.channillo.com, listed in the short story section. I have been an avid reader since early childhood and has always been imaginative. It wasn't until my children were growing up that I started taking writing classes and put my creations onto paper. When I'm not writing I like to paint, draw, work in the garden and spend time with my pets and family.
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