Romance is a Cat

I am glad of the cat
who keeps company with me
from time to time sitting
beside me on the arm of the chair
or on my arm despite
my need to have it free
and sometimes I pause from work
or pull her close against me to rest
slightly purring against my chest
and not body-blocking the view
of keyboard and screen…

At night and time to sleep,
she walks across me
with hard pointed feet that
concentrate all her little weight
against nerve points
and tender spots that wince…
I wake to find that I’m her bed
or just behind my knees
she has kept warm and cozy 
through the chilly night, 
and that is fine and right.

I’ve grown accustomed
to my days of freedom
from the worries and the cares,
the frustrations, aggravations,
the longings
of a partnered life,
happy so, and unperturbed by fears
of losses inevitable and fore-ordained,
that I feel I can no longer quite afford.
Disappointment and dismay
realizing self-betrayals of
of red flags ignored, denied…

My time, now,
my space is mine,
within boundaries safe and distant
no longer requiring human intimacies;
The little pointy-footed cat
much makes up for that.