To a Cat

Oh alley cat! Where do you roam?
A visible soul of gentle grace,
of affectionate greeting and
companionship at home.
A loyal friend of fussy fur,
beauty in balance
and affectionate purr.

A playful pounce on padded paw,
a catnip chase with retracted claw,
curled up to stretch and scratch
with sharpened claw,
to keep at bay the rabid rat.

A whiskered face to tickle and tease,
a licking, rasping tongue
to groom a shining coat clean,
free of the cursed clinging flea.

Independent to do as one pleases
to nuzzle, paw and prod,
and with expectant eyes, a look,
to be worshipped as a god.

Then hidden in shadow, in the alley,
poised to spring out and leap,
the urban tiger, crouches stealthily,
deathly violent and sleek.

All bristling fur and ragged torn ears,
from wildcat scraps throughout the years,
and in the moonlight, a glossy coat
that shines with scrapes and scars,
adorned with unsheathed claws and bared fangs,
to screech and scratch at the stars.

Then to slink away with dark silhouettes
to seduce and dance,
not with a lover´s tender charm,
but a wicked black heart 
and a fighter´s chance.

Then in the morning, the victor struts in,
proud on bloodied paw,
to curl up and lie magnificent in the sun,
around and upon the lawn.

To lick wounds, to show scars
and to lick smooth silken fur,
and for a bounty of milk, offer praise,
with a perfect, affectionate purr.