“I clasp my hands and shadow dance.”
Prancing down the porch lit street,
crossing over to the concrete sidewalk,
where you can’t step on the cracks,
‘cause you’ll break your mother’s back,’
bumping each other into old tar chipped potholes,
Meow was taking a walk with his best friend Yeow.
Tails straight up, tips waggling simultaneously,
butts swaggering shamelessly, strut inseparably
to the corner street light; lighting the source,
of the pitter patter, the friendship and love
under such mischievous dainty feet.
Best friends in sunshine! Best friends all the time!
From sunset to sunrise, without surprise though,
they roll, play, and sneak between crevices,
dented barrels, old barns, and neighborhood alleys.
Losing each other in the darkened cracks and black gaps,
chasing each other to the cusp of darkness to the first light of dawn;
when all twilight friends dim before the glow of morning.
Tail straight, still high, tip quivering,
prancing with an ole stride, purring mindlessly,
Meow muffled through the gray dew street without Yeow;
that little rascal, plays disappearing tricks at the end of every night,
slipping beneath picked-up padded feet,
and sweetly meowing a distant sleepy-good-night.