Curled up lightly
Against the back of a well-loved velvet armchair
In a well-loved bookshop
Was a sleek black cat
Keeping a placid yellow eye on things –
Molly Bloom.
My son, just past his first birthday,
Toddled up to the chair
And grabbed it to steady himself.
Then he saw the cat sitting there.
He looked at the cat
Then he looked at me
With that melt-my-heart look
Of utter joy on his face:
“Really, Mom?
Is that for Me?”
I smiled, nodded, and he stood
As tall as he could on his tippy-toes
And reached
As far as he could across the chair
And gave Miss Molly Bloom the gentlest of pats.
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