I always wanted a Ginger Cat to sit on my lap as I sipped tea.
One that would find me as comforting as I would he.
He would curl into a soft little ball and purr so contently when he was so small.
I would find joy in this little gift, whiskers so tickely, pink padded paws,
What sweetness and love a kitten can give.
So majestic he would become in his years of late,
as he sat in the garden by the wrought iron gate.
Just beyond my reach, I desire to touch,
a wish, a dream, a desire of such,
a beautiful, red ginger cat did appear.
It is somebody elses sweet little dear.