Feline.

Man like a cat
not stubborn nor fat.
Not as hairy,
you see that clearly,
but feeling that
obviously
you cant shake, tells you
that
the man in front of you
seems to be
a cat.

Oh dear,
me kitty
white as the
full moon,
soft as a
wildrose
bloom.
But a cat.

It doesn’t make
any sense.
Under the bridge,
over the fence
Like a shadow
in silent deepness
never rests
seems sleepless,
drags a mouse
in his paw,
feels the ticking
in its claw,
like a cat.

But when he
purrs
.
.
.
.
you know
that’s not
a cat.

Feline,
he’s just
a man.

And that’s all
about that.