If I was a cat
in this night of honey moon
for me windows would be open
to lay down a while and something
and then change my mind and go.
The quite sleeping of the lovers
would be stroking my fur black
make me shine and shine and shine
with no struggles cries or fights.
Someone shall know where
this night has
left my mark to trace the land
and when everything would be
(as it should be) all of mine,
I could go back home to you
and comb your hair with my finger's nails.
