assonance

little white cat
it made overtures
crouched under cabinet
my mews alternating
her eyes gleaming
and with lights out
a streak
of flying fur

tomorrow, perhaps purrs

repeating

come and go
little new people popping
in and out of
heart and head
(‘the sound is plonk’,
he said)
and oh, but I tried
so hard and
(can you see me cry?)
still they do
what they do
and that old refrain
if they would but
refrain
from leaving always
every time
it would be rather
nice,
i’m thinking.