Grant me a cat’s Day of sweet FA.

(You don’t have to solve the world. You can stroke a cat and guzzle beer”)

I’d like me a cats’s day, 24 hours without effort or views.
A placid, subdued day, no work and no news.
With the moggy in my lap, purring, asnooze, a whole empty day to do nothing, just as we choose.
A day of undisturbed doziness with my feline friend
a day when bugger all occurs from
beginning to end
beyond purrs, sipping my tea and playing the remote
listening to soft jazz and for the elusive blue note.
Give me a day of stroking the cat,
so delightfully cwtchy and warm in my lap.
The occasional meeow, a stretch and re curl,
no thoughts at all about the state of the world.
Give me my cat and my pint of Guinness
as I read, watch the clock and recall my successes.
A day with only comments on the passing of time
Cat and me catching snatches of old 6 Nations matches,
Wales winning grand slams and me running rhymes.

While cat lazes and gazes and stirs just to move –
I want a ‘spare me your opinion’ day
because I’m in the drowse groove,
a territorial dominion day
Where nothing at all happens,
just these hours, all ours; together
on my lap, soft as a feather
just me and my cat, sweet Fanny Adams.