Chelsea Lundberg Zellner

 

Warren Peace

Sleek, slick, slim.
Stately.
Warren stands,
Statuesque.
Almost…Presidential.
Almost.
Lacking a certain….diplomacy.
Outward refinement,
Inward…rebellion?
No. Innocence at heart.

But still.

Warren jumps.
Everywhere.
Approved places.
Forbidden places.
Feet on table.
Feet on fresh food.
Fur in mouth.
Warren! Warren!
Warren, off!
He returns.
War!

Warren perches.
A handsome face observes.
Too handsome for feline.
This handsome feels foreign, and familiar.
A human handsome.
Chiseled cheeks, slow swivel,
Deep, drinking eyes.
Watching.
Warren Watch.

Warren nestles in. Tucks in.
Collects cat parts. Parts in place.
Purrs in place.
Warm summer wind leaves Warren’s face,
August breeze rustling grey, brown, and black meadow.
Warren Peace.

Warren walks, watches, waits.
A suit would suit him,
Waistcoat, too.
Dapper, debonair,
Monocle in place,
Over winking eye on chiseled face.

Sleek, slick, slim body fights a war.
And wins.
And fights again.
And wins again.
Warren was built for war, and
Winning.
Waistcoat Warrior only wins.
Monocle in place.

Presidential Warren scores and wins, delivering his life-ly address,
“One score less one year ago, my fur-father…”
In suit and waistcoat,
Warren scores, and wins.
Monocle in place,
Over deep, drinking eyes
And winking face.

Gently now,
Warren Peace gives chase.
Warm summer wind leaves the chiseled face,
August breeze rustles grey, brown, and black meadow,
Closing deep drinking eyes,
Monocle in place.

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