Arts + Scene » Poetry

Empty Hours



No cat hair
where you slept on the chair
next to me.
My milk glass - safe from your eager sips,
or cereal stolen before I could sit down to eat.
Or sitting on the window sill
watching busy birds at the feeder,
while you waited for me
to scoop the last bite of breakfast
so you could hurry
over to jump up onto my lap
for hugs
and tell you "I love you"
returning purring. Non-stop.
and waiting to be brushed and combed,
reluctant to move away
and start the day.
and returning to your dish
to enjoy any remaining food.
and I would have morning coffee -
now remembering Albert, 15 years -
the love - forever.

Susan Stewart


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