A Year of Stories (Collection Four)

On Little Cats Feet

It comes at night on little cat's feet, you hear it scratching at your door.

You light a candle, leave your seat, you search your home from floor to floor.

You're careful not to wake the child, careful not to wake the spouse.

When that thing comes on little cats feet, it's dangerous to walk around the house.

You see it's shadows on your wall, not one or two but many more.

You hear its wail, you hear it's call, like crimson claw marks on your core.

It comes for you and you alone, its here from shadows to settle scores.

It comes for you and you alone, but fight it and it will take more.

The thing that comes on little cats feet, knows of your guilt, your sins, your shame.

It looks on at the life you've built, as a miner might inspect a claim.

You owe this shadow thing so much, its done for you what nothing could.

It eats your sins, your guilt, your shame and leaves you with a life that's good.

And all it asks for in return, is the right to visit on nights like these.

To hunt you as all good cats should, to hunt as long as it may please.

Purring, preening on little cats feet.

Plotting, scheming on little cats feet.

Stalking, screaming on little cats feet.

Chasing you from dream to dream.