“Daisy the black cat”

Under the coat of midnight silk she slips—  
Daisy, black cat with honeyed moonlit eyes,  
Her paws, mere whispers on the window sills,  
Twin lamps agleam where all the shadow lies.  

She curves around the table’s weathered leg,  
Her whiskers twitching with old secrets sung,  
And stretched upon a rug as dark as dusk,  
She reigns, the keeper of the bells and rung.  

By sunlight, she is velvet come to life,  
A patch of shadow blinking in repose;  
By starlight, nimble—leaping on the dusk,  
She pirouettes where garden jasmine grows.  

A gentle thief of toasty sitting spots,  
And always first to greet the waking dawn,  
She curls beside the crackling friendly fire,  
And dreams of midnight meadows, softly drawn.  

So let the tales of luck and myth unwind—  
For Daisy’s magic lives beneath her fur;  
Within the quiet corners of our home,  
Our hearts belong, forever, just to her.

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