Merlin will be 100 in cat years in a few short months a mischievous imp he is with fading eyes and random patches of gray, a toothless mouth that pouts when he mews, but he still wears his tuxedo coat like a regal gentleman who dines on pâté while demanding the servitude of his ever-devoted human
(that would be me)
of course i comply to his every whim i’m a sucker for soft fur, and deep rhythmic purrs mesmerized by the dark flecks in his green eyes deep as wells and by the trust implied by his gaze having tested me these twenty-one years
Na/GloPoWriMo 2022 - Day 24 Prompt: write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Feel free to use just one, or try to go for broke and stuff your poem with similes till it’s . . . as dense as bread baked by a plumber, as round as the eyes of a girl who wants you to think she’s never heard such language, and as easy to miss as a brass band in a cathedral.
Now I don’t know if my similes are all that, (as mentioned in the examples above), but I did manage to pen a few. They say one should always write what one knowS. I guess you could say I know my subject quite well, like an old friend he is…my gentleman kittie, Merlin.
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