There stood a cat in the middle of the street,
Black was its colour as it pranced upon its feet.

Motion less awe caught as I stared into its eyes,
Thought for a second, does it pay to be so wise.

Some cats are playful, some are bold,
Some go ballistic,
Most just seem to tumble and roll.

But there was something mystic,
Something profound,
About this cat, in this part of town,
Projecting awareness, wearing a crown,
In tune with every movement and sound.