Innocence

To be cleaned with fairy pods and curious comfort

They tip tap upon the glass door with squeaky claws

Crying suds from there cute beady eyes. 

Straws of hay and warm milk await my pet clowder 

Sheep's wool and iron lining aglow in the presence of burning slack

This will be a night of yawns and snuggles 

A slumber beneath a blanket of feline black. 

I hear the machine click and pluck the clump of sleeping soggy moggys 

I giggle with joy

A quick dry in lavender towels 
There so still and silent