When I'll Be Dead

When I’ll be dead, 

your tears may flow, 

But I would not know!

Care for me now.

When I’ll be dead,

You’ll send flowers, 

but I would not see!

Send them now.

When I’ll be dead,

May be you’ll say words of praise, 

But I would not hear

Praise me now.

When I’ll be dead,

You'll love me pure,

But I would not feel, 

Love me now.

When I’ll be dead,

You’ll forgive all my faults, 

but I would not know!

So Forgive me now…

Mystic's Christmas Poem

Mystic

Later that night when all was quiet in our house; 

when not one was stirring, not even a mouse.   

When both were snoring upstairs in their pits,

 I crept down the stairs and shredded their festive gifts to bits.

Later that morning when they did awake

 I was fast asleep in dad’s armchair, innocent I state. 

The Christmas tree had fallen, crashed all on its own;

 its glitter and balls were everywhere,

 adorning our Christmassy home.

When dad did see, he gave off a sigh,

 I speedily meowed, “Don’t look at me,

 twas that buzzing fly!”

After breakfast when all was put right, 

I nestled on the old man’s lap, purring, 

“Same time, tonight?”