BASIL

This poem is late, but more on that
later. A lazy afternoon on the
4th of July. A perfect time to crack
open that brand new book from Amazon.

I take to my bed for a gentle read.
But soon Basil joins me - orange tabby cat,
king of the house, he sits and looks thinking:
"It’s the middle of the day,
don't fall asleep,
we might miss a meal,
what's that in your hand?"

A gentle head nudge reminds me he's there,
just as I reach a new poem. Maybe
he'd like me to read it aloud to him.
I speak the first words and his head gently
turns, eyes meeting mine, he holds a steady
gaze - darshan. Soon, a low purr joins my spoken words
in a co-written soundtrack just for us.

Impatient as always he nudges once more:
"Aren't you done yet,
my throat hurts,
let's eat."

Finished, I set the book aside, content
that we've shared some special time together.
He desperately wants me to put down my arms,
it's a custom of his, to lie on top of my hand,
gently cradling his belly.
The purring returns on his terms, of course.
His message:
"We are One;
but your poem must wait 'til I'm done."