He was carrying a pedigree cat

I went to the doctor one day
I was feeling laid low with anxiety.
I know that we sinners must pay,
More so when we’ve lived in depravity.

I told him my legs felt like jelly
I could hardly walk straight down the High Street
He recommended good jokes on the telly.
And to bump into men,then to bleat.

I followed his recommendations
In the spirit but not to the letter
I met men from a  variety of stations.
Their kindly words made me feel better,

One day I saw my own dearest lover
He was carrying a pedigree cat.
I said,John,I hope it’s no bother.
I’ll take half of the love you give that.

My legs still feel rather weakened
and I do hyperventilate too.
But his love letters to me are like beacons.
That light up my world when I’m blue.

I can live with the worry and tension
I can live with the sorrow as well
As long as I can steal half his pension….
For ,with money, I’ll be laughing in Hell.

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About Kate Thwaite

I love writing , conversation, art, wild flowers, music and air.And books
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