Luny Day

What the hell is it about bloody Mondays?

Is it about the end of a hangover-haze?

Guilt-ridden compensation for the weekend's laze?

Do people jump awake

and do a double take

at the enormity of the innane targets that they chase?

What an invention, these bloody Mondays!

Care to chance?

Chances and prances may oft lead to dances
and dances and chances are age-old friends.
But dances are not assured with prances,
given the off-beat message it sends.

A self portrait by a small ball of white fur that sits on the bed.

Reality's in my eyes.

Contentment is my purr.

Dawn shall break when I rise

and clean my pristine fur.

There shall be food when I mew,

there shall be love when I'm due -

And I am due when I wish:

It's like the salmon in my dish.

Call my name with all your might;

I'll turn on a whim.

Pick me up without the right:

your fingers get a trim.

The noise and mayhem of the world

disappear when I am curled.

I live on simple terms and ask little of life:

To eat, sleep, purr and be left away from strife.

I have been called

and shall again

be known ever more

as the epitome of beauty,

grace and elegance -

oh, what a bore!