Yesterday hearts weigh heavy
on the years lived in the past.
Time does not wait for hearts to be ready;
Hearts must be ready waiting for time.
Couch surfing alone. The house is cooking.
The night is cold, clear, calm, crystallising.
A meow from the laundry tells her the cat
wants food or else she will be the next meal.
Crashing and banging in the laundry as bowls,
teaspoons, detergent, all of it gets a workout.
The cat sits starring at the strange figure,
wondering why food is so difficult to provide.
Friends again after the feeding, yet she feels
peckish, for insomnia and jam are no strangers.
She sits on the fence for a while deciding,
until the desire for sweet outweighs reason.