…It’s not that she’s shy.
It’s that she chooses not to speak.
Oh skinny frame, oh mouse brown hair,
Oh voice as gentle as squeak.

She need not talk.
Because her eyes speak at volume.
Such gems of lazuline blue,
And they enigma they consume!

I am struck by her beauty.
But by her mystery…I am torn.
Normally, I fear that which I do not know,
In fear of being scorned upon show.

But today…I do not doubt my instinct.
And privately, to myself, I think…
She is harmless, kind, and sincere.
Although I am naïve, as my heart is dunce,
I remove my fear, and trust my hunch.

And a decision well made,
As it turns out.
Because that untamed lioness,
Of which I first feared.
Was but a kitten. And indeed sincere.
And as I sat there and stroked her fur,
She woke up gently, shivered and stirred,
And cuddled closer, and began to purr.

As I stroked her tummy.
And tickled her feet.
She closed her eyes,
And went back to sleep.

The End

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