The Black Cat’s Delight

Upon the windowsill so high,

A sleek black shadow, golden eye.

Silent watcher of the night,

Bathed in soft and silver light.

But when a hand, so kind, so true,

Reaches out—a touch so new,

The shadow melts, the purrs arise,

Like rolling thunder, deep and wise.

A scratch behind each velvet ear,

Melts away the ghostly fear.

A gentle stroke along the crest,

Turns the hunter into guest.

No longer sleek, no longer sly,

Just blissful warmth and half-lid eyes.

A creature born of moonlit grace,

Now lost within love’s soft embrace.