Furless nights await

Insomnia effects that of deep,
my personal darkness does not bring sleep.
I try in vain to bore ahead,
but wandering calls me instead.

I find myself beside a cat
that I've done nothing but tip a hat,
so with cautious eyes, he looks in mine,
and then so far, all is fine.

I sit beside him, and with no respite,
I stroke his fur, from left to right.
a gentle pur vibes through my hand,
a gentle lick delivered like sand.

I talk to him, about life desires,
and watch him close as he admires
the scritchs that he so enjoys,
and his cat-green eyes following toys.

A well taught cat, or a cat who can teach,
directed my hand when it was in reach,
he guided my hand to where attention was needed,
and as I followed the flow, the distrust receeded.

He played around, hiding no feel,
roaming around, laying on heel,
being wonderful, even with eyes so sad
gazing upon someone wonderfully glad.

I had learned of his last farewell,
his true family not here, the holder not swell,
and relocation was next for his calling.
Pushing that feel aside, my hand kept gently falling.

His pur much louder, now along side his smile
of a feline type, that stays for a while,
and while he felt so comforted and soft,
he closed his eyes, and just dozed off.

I wander away, back to my inner dot.
Still sleepless, still planless, but at least in a spot.
Unsure of the future, so I mimic the cat.
I close my eyes, and hope to leave it at that.