The Companion

Like a full moon, his topaz eyes set deep,
The gentle face of my pale cat hangs low
Near mine. I cannot see him as I sleep,
But start to stir as, coming up from slow

Dreaming, I sense his gentle presence there.
Reaching to touch the beige and silken fur,
I see reflected in his eyes, a stare
Full of affection. Soon a steady purr

Comes rumbling, deep, to show me his concern,
And then relief that I am now awake.
What did he think, I’d taken a bad turn?
No matter – he was watching, for my sake;

A beast whose feelings, sensibilities
Are finer than the average, it would seem.
All night he watches. Who knows what he sees—
Or if we walk together, in my dream?





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Sally Cook is both painter and poet. Whether writ­ing or paint­ing, she keeps a sharp eye out for the psy­cho­log­i­cal por­trait. Her essays and poetry have been pub­lished in jour­nals such as The Chimera, Chron­i­cles, Con­tem­po­rary Son­net, Iambs & Trochees, Pivot, and The For­mal­ist Por­tal. Look for her in the next issue of Light Quar­terly. Cook’s review “Rhyming The Right”, of William Baer’s anthol­ogy “The Con­ser­v­a­tive Poets”, may be seen both in the cur­rent issue of The Uni­ver­sity Book­man and on its website.