
They love boxes
Hidey holes,
Places to nap,
Sit and chill.
My cats are box cats,
Hidden in deep,
Somewhere to mooch
A place to sleep.
Cats that wear boxes
Like a tortoise shell
Sitting and thinking
Till the dinner bell.
New paintings and regular art updates.

They love boxes
Hidey holes,
Places to nap,
Sit and chill.
My cats are box cats,
Hidden in deep,
Somewhere to mooch
A place to sleep.
Cats that wear boxes
Like a tortoise shell
Sitting and thinking
Till the dinner bell.

The cat sat in the box.
Not on a mat,
or in a hat,
not on a roof
or under a hoof.
Not in a car
or on top of a door.
Not up the stairs
or on the chairs.
But in a box
where it lived,
or died.
It was Schrodingers
purring..
Cat.

Jumped in,
Sitting pretty.
My box now,
not yours.
Peeping out,
watching for
the Queen,
his sister
who might turn mean.
Pounced in,
now jumping out.
Biting the sides
of the box.
He slow blinks,
plotting his next move.