poem

In shadows soft where moonlight weaves,A whiskered muse, the feline cleaves.With eyes aglow, like orbs of night,A ballet of grace, in moon's soft light.

Velvet paws on silent prowl,Through moonlit gardens, the nocturne scowl.Mysterious dance of a midnight sprite,In the hush of darkness, a feline's delight.

A whiskered poet with tales untold,In fur, a narrative, ancient and bold.From rooftop kingdoms to garden's grace,Each whisker twitch tells a secret place.

Oh, the purring sonnet, a lullaby sweet,Echoing softly, where moonbeams meet.Cradled in shadows, a whiskered ball,The poetry of cats, a moonlit sprawl.

With playful leaps and acrobatic springs,They weave through the night on silent wings.A tapestry of fur, a feline parade,In the quiet moonlight, their stories cascade.

So in the velvet night, where mystery lies,The feline poets with enchanting eyes.Whispers of moonbeams in fur so fine,A poetic dance, in the midnight shine.