Old Lady with Cat
While my body snores
at last, on these humid nights,
he, my black-haired darling,
prowls the cool outdoors.
Mornings he's nearly always
back, sharing my bed,
accepting an embrace
before requiring breakfast.
If I wake up still alone,
by the time I open the door
he's running up the front steps
calling a greeting.
We remember the others
who were here, whom we loved,
but now they are ghosts, and this
is the end time (may it be long)
when we, being finally only two,
are all-in-all to each other.
In age we learn the true things —
e.g. this is important, e.g. this is enough.
e.g. this is important, e.g. this is enough.
— Rosemary Nissen-Wade
