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Dear Diary,
Since half-a-dozen thirty-one suns
Three cats mew outside my window.
Every full moon
after the sun’s scurry,
their sights scour my abode.
On the fence sitting tight
three dark tiny things,
with piercing silver eyes
and gleaming claws
and space in between.
Their curious mews in fearful pitches
with silence in between,
scares good Morpheus
and his arms
each time he ventures nigh.
These dear full moons have turned restless
since I shifted here.

Last time I sauntered out to see
the little mewing ones,
to scare or bring them in
If perchance they need a home.
My last walk near the fence,
found this soul perplexed,
It could be the evening’s vodka’s susurration
in the depths of my mind,
for I now heard their feline whispers
from within my walls;
triple dark little forms
mewing from my bed.

My fingers shudder blankly
like melting tiny tines
calligraphy weak and wacky
as I pen these worried lines
I must put this down
beneath this cupped candle,
I fear my mind falls apart
I hear my doors creaking wildly
and tonight,
c r i e s.

  • Caleb Nmeribe #Carlflame