by Lawrence J. J. Leonard
A crazy young girl with brunette hair
long ago said she must be my mate.
She looked into her book of spells
and conjured a figure eight.
“This is the number,” she told her cat, Ben,
“of lives I need from you.”
Then she cried, “Cat, speak catspeak.”
The feline refused to express its view.
So determined was this girl
to wrench me from my love,
that she spit a spell wrongly
and Ben became a dove.
Nothing in her books could hasten it back
to languid eyes that blink and stare.
She had to un-say her faulty verse
and only then did the cat dare.
“Now, I’ll tell you what it’s like
to live in the house of prey.”
The steel grey fur upon its ears
was prickly in its own way.
“You want so much to have a thing
that when you can’t, it consumes you.
“I have longed for and eaten cooing birds.
Having been one, I remember I flew.”
“But never will I wish again to be
light as a feather and tasty.
“Because when you want so much a thing
you will say the wrong words, being hasty.”
The young girl blushed, and her familiar purred,
and the two of them quietly petted.
But the girl got her book and opened the page
and took eight lives from Ben and then fretted.
“I do hope this works because the boy is so fine,
and will want me as much as I him.”
She finished the spell and smiled at the cat
which was shaken and slightly grim.
One day I was interested in holding her hand
then forgot all about my first kiss.
The second one was hers, just not deep enough
as I fondly reminisce.
Everything changed in our short time together.
Then we parted. Our souls had been bared.
I heard her cat speak catspeak as I was leaving,
“Guard well my eight lives that she snared.”
I have only one life left now, since this moment in time.
They were all lost when I sought her again.
Our reunion revealed she kept no memory of me.
Abracadabra! I returned them to Ben.
Copyright © 1960-2017 Lawrence J. J. Leonard All rights reserved.