House of Cats

Behind a tall brick wall
Overgrown with Virginia creeper
Sits a dilapidated house
Its tree-filled yard is not surprisingly overgrown
And if your happen to stop and peer
Through the ever-rusting wrought-iron front gate
Your inquisitive eyes will fall upon a score or more cats
Preening, stalking, playing, sleeping – they will pay you no mind
They will be perched atop the weathered porch railing
Or curled in the morning sun
Upon the moss-dotted stone of the walk
Or padding along with the signature languor of their species
Winged creatures beware!
Even mockingbirds don’t dare brave these grounds
It is well-known local lore
That once an old spinster lived here
But she died
And was eaten by her cats

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