All year I gaze out into the starlit night, waiting . . . waiting.
Crisp air makes my blood boil and skin itch. My tail and whiskers twich. Restless, I pace from room to room on silent paws only to return to the window. “Is it time?” my emerald eyes ask.
She understands.
She sits beside me, her gentle hand stokes my slick coat. “Soon, Pan. Soon,” she promises.
She sits beside me, her gentle hand stokes my slick coat. “Soon, Pan. Soon,” she promises.
The pumpkin is carved. The candles are lit. She strides toward me on pointy-toed boots, onyx skirts whisper with each step, black hat on her head, broom in hand.
The clock chimes midnight—the witching hour. The waiting is over. Time to fly.
She calls me to her side. Beside her I ride.
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| Pan Weeks |
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| All Hallow' s Eve by Ruth Weeks |
I liked that Ruth.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful cat. Did you paint that picture? Awesome. Dax is pacing the floor and yowling. He wants out soooo bad. I think he hears Pan.
ReplyDeleteYes, Luna, I did paint the picture and gave it to guy at work. wish I kept it. LOL
ReplyDeleteYep, Dax and Pan . . . flying buddies.
Watch out for low flying Kangaroo's!
ReplyDeleteA poet and a painter too. Is there no end to your talents?
ReplyDeleteSo you are an artist too. Well, knock me down with a feather.
ReplyDeleteI dabble in paints on occation. Mama was a commercial artest that worked for Halmark cards in Kansas City. Guess I got the drawing bug from her, but will never be as good as she was.
ReplyDeleteI have two pictures in my mind, but getting them on canvas is a challenge.
I think you were "spot on" with the thoughts the cat was thinking. :-) Beautiful creature--is it yours?
ReplyDeleteDear Palooski65:
ReplyDeleteYes, Pan is my cat. But she's so much more: my muse, familiar, companion. I've had her for about 11 years and she and I always fly at Halloween.