The Glass Door

By John I. Blair 

 

She sits so near
The glass door
Awaiting something
Good to happen.

The frosty morning air
Must make her dream
What warmth
Might dwell within.

My indoor cat
Stares at her
As if daring any move
To enter.

Ironic
Since the indoor cat
Herself was once
The one outside,

The one without
A home, security,
A spot to curl up
Safe and sound.

You’d think, you’d hope
Experience like that
Would make her feel
More generous.

©2019 John I. Blair, 12/26/2019

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