In front of me–a mushy pile of calico,
A thick hand-me-down bedspread of monkeys banging drums,
And a previously owned blue Parisian Lancome zipper tote.
God, is nothing new?!
Secondhand cat is failing,
Sweeter as she goes.
I think we have a picture of her on our new Nikon camera
In that case leaning on the Spalding basketball cradled in the corner,
Beside the bulging mesh clothes hamper.
(I wish the handle wasn’t broken.)
She let us dress her in doll clothes once,
She seemingly enjoyed the escapade.
Her claws she can no longer detach
From our shirts and gently worn blankets.
Thank you for the freely given,
Lord, I want nothing new.