My old puffer jacket
Is like an ancient cat:
Round, fat, black
Curled in on itself for warmth
It prowls everywhere
And never draws the eye.
.
And yet
When I look closer
It shows its age –
Thin in the shoulders
Balding in places
Shiny where its coat has worn down
A little… dare I say?
Shabby.
.
I’m not ready for it to die
Not ready to let it go
Not ready to lay it down
For its final nap
Quite yet.
.
My much-loved cat still lives
It goes with me
With worn fur and shiny elbows
On cold winter walks
Slinking through icy shadows
Basking in pale sunlight
Until
It is ready
To sleep.