What woke me I’ll never know,
Felt the slightest vibration left in the air,
From a still echoing chime of midnight.
In a room full of strangers.
At heights above that of most mountains,
On a night colder than zero,
Up against corrugated tin walls,
On a mattress thinner than a thumb,
And as consistent as gravel.
At some point I had fallen asleep.
Then I felt it,
This slight constriction around the knee,
Then I heard it,
The faint rumble rousing me awake,
Sound barely a sound it so low.
Then I saw it,
Two slanted eyes squinted shut,
Ears pointing up like pyramids,
Rounded little digits,
Escaping from under a stretched out chin.
Reached out to stroke her,
Gently not wanting to disturb,
Whatever feline dreams she may now be having.
The feel of cat fur,
Felt like home,
Long since left behind,
Purring coil of rumbles,
Breathing the night along,
Keeping it warm.
No wonder I was sleeping so soundly.