Heartfelt Words

Caesar

My cat is old,
grey hairs dot his fur like ashes from an old firepit.
His gait isn't so smooth and quick as buttered toast,
instead his movements are as rugged as my brothers choo choo train.
I often times come home to find him dead asleep on the porch,
a little scratch behind his ear won't even wake him up.
He always tries to come through the front door anytime anyone opens it to mew for food,
once he hears the rattling of his food in the cup you have his full attention,
his green eyes as boundless as that light beyond Gatsby's dock.
And I usually try to pet him at least once every day.