Dreaming of a Cat I've Never Owned.

Drifting back to early morning sleep,
lying on my stomach,with my face
squashed sideways, in the valley
where the pillow
forms two lumpy, feather halves;
I feel you take a leap,
from the footboard at the bottom of the bed.

You step with light and dainty grace,
over the soles of my feet,
and settle, purring on my calves;
kneading for a moment before sitting.

And I seem to know you so completely,
your visit to me does not surprise.
your female, feline ways, are most familiar
you are gentle, loving, rather wise.
And there seems to be a sympathy between us,
given expression in the undemanding nature
of your happy little settling down noise.

I move my legs and you flop in the middle,
compromising, accommodating, fitting.
And as I slowly start to surface towards morning
I can see you clearly in my head,
your white fur, patched with tabby
almost tweedy, an intelligence in your face,
and flecks of orange in your greenish eyes.