The darkness is fuzzy
and the shadows are soft
Like God tethered storm clouds
to the floor of the loft
The two small, silver moons
capture me in their gaze
like sister lighthouses
setting darkness ablaze
These aren't the only moons
I catch another pair
staring from the darkness
at the foot of the stairs
The cats stare in silence
I wonder what they see
wonder what they look for
when they're looking at me
This seems to me the time
when fiction runs its course
when fantasy takes hold
like a juggernaut force
These cats could be wizards
or monsters in disguise
or shape-shifting sentries
or cunning, evil spies
The mind will do strange things
when one's alone at night
Imagination squirms
and fear is at its height
I'll let those cats be cats
I'll let their small moons glow
watching with some purpose
that I will never know
