Mirror to My Soul by Heather Mirassou

I stretch my legs like rubber bands,
then flop sideways without a plan.
My whiskers twitch at empty air,
my tail flicks twice, then swats a chair.

I pounce on shadows no one sees,
my paws land soft, but sometimes sneeze.
Ears rotate like satellite dishes,
nose sniffs crumbs, then hasty wishes.

I knead the couch, then bite my paws,
stare at walls in perfect awe.
I blink slow, judge every move,
and nap again - because I approve.

I curl in circles, tight and small,
claiming the sunbeam as my all.
A sudden sprint across the floor,
then flop again, and snore some more.

I tap at dusk, like it’s foe,
then trip on nothing as I go.
My tail waves with secret glee
I reign supreme, as all cats can be.

I yawn wide, exposing teeth,
then lick my fur in careful sheath.
A sudden prance, a started glance,
then back to sleep a true perchance.