Monarch on the Cushions of his Throne
He has a rattan halo over him.
He lies on velvet and embroidery.
The rattan is a woven saint-like rim
Come down as if by heavenly decree
To change the world forever for the best.
The velvet on his cushion is a red
Of royalty because he made the rest
Of catdom seem like serfs. He lay his head
Back regally in kittendom, alert
And beautiful as kings have never been.
The way he held his paws and ears was pert,
Yes, pert enough for pink to be best seen.
..He lies now in that velvet coffin, death.
….No longer can he push his purrs with breath.
