Spring cleaning

Today I went to visit my wonderful mom for Mother's Day.  It was a beautiful day, and a nice relaxing drive--I was, of course, listening to an audiobook on my trusty iPod to pass the time.  While I was in town, I helped my mom go through (throw away) some of the old stuff (junk) in my room.  Among other things, I came across a poem written about my cat Tinkerbell, circa 1994 (I was probably about 13).  I found it both amusing and disturbing, and definitely worth sharing!

Tinkerbell

You lie awake, staring until all is still,
Your eyelids heavy with sleep,
                    Then--whishhhh!--
A sound--you are alert once more.
You look at me with confusion and weariness.
You tuck your head back into your fur,
And pretend I don't exist,
You want to sleep.
I scoop you up in my loving arms,
Despite your protesting.

I drop you upon the floor--
                    Pit-pat.
Realizing I will not let you sleep,
You begin to bathe.
You lick your paw,
You wipe your face,
You arch your back,
You stretch your legs.
In an attempt to open the door,
You stand upon your hind legs and push.
                    Nothing happens.
You let out a cry of despair,
Realizing you are trapped.
You sit in front of me and stare.

As I pick you up,
I hear and feel your purr of contentment.
                    Quiet,
                    Soft,
You speak to me.
You return once more,
To your post at the door.
You realize your attempts to leave are futile,
It is time to explore.
You curiously go over every inch of the room,
As if it were all new to you.
You return to the door,
Staring at the feet that pass on the other side.
You continue your exploration route,
And you wander into the closet,
Only to glide immediately out.
Once again you utter a cry,
You want to be set free.
My heart goes out to you.
                    Alas!
I open the door,
You are gone.
Good-bye, Tinkerbell.