Times of Yore

March 5, 2008
Memories of a life long past,
In the fields of rice so vast.
And in the house lies a cat,
Lying beneath the sun on a never aging mat.
Its paws now dusty,
It’s porcelain coating a tad musty.
Once draped in Jasmine flowers all about,
Inhaling their sweet aromas when they sprout.

Watching life change and flow,
As the fields darken in the moon's shadow.
Leaving but a small gleam of light,
A white, black and brown skin sight.

Remembering times simple and quaint,
watching the wood chip with the paint.
Not old, but fragile,
And yet no longer agile.
The air filled with the erotic lullaby of spices,
Licking your nose with those seducing vices.

A day, alive, so long ago,
No more time to dream or sow.
Still gazing, with those emerald eyes,
Waiting while the clock sighs.
Tail curled in a backwards 'C',
My dear little cat that ages with me.

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