by Knightdaniru » 12/29/2009 11:48 PM
Valentine looked around happily. The room was peaceful in its simplicity. But she had to think about the sahound's question. "I'm happy where I live," She said after a bit, "I just like others. I like people, human or animal, I'm not particular, around to talk to and play with and be social with. City, Meadow, farm, small house, doesn't really matter, as long as someone is there. I guess I could even stand living with your roommate in there for a length of time. Why do you live together anyways? Just curious, whats his relation to you?"
You may call, you may call
But the little black cats won't hear you.
The little black cats are maddened
By the bright green light of the moon;
They are whirling and running and hiding,
They are wild who were once so confiding,
They are crazed when the moon is riding
You will not catch the kittens soon.
They care not for saucers of milk,
They think not of pillows of silk;
Your softest, crooningest call
Is less than the buzzing of flies.
They are seeing more than you see,
They are hearing more than you hear,
And out of the darkness they peer.
With a goblin light in their eyes!
The Bad Kitties
By Elizabeth Coatsworth