Sometimes I wish I could just be a cat
I’d laze around, swat papers, sleep all day,
and no one would even care about it.
And life would be peaceful. Life would be calm.

That peace, that simplicity of being,
an unhurried ride down some calm river,
(one without bumps or problems to bruise you)
calls to me, paws at my heartstrings softly.

But maybe at night it would still be cold,
with no one there to pet me, feed me, care.
Yet I have to believe that isn’t true,
that there’s some quiet existence for me.

Well, maybe I’ll just lay here, curl up, and hope.

Maybe the desire will be peace enough.