If the road is deserted
and you see a cat ambling
across, will it have one
or nine lives?
If the weather-beaten
flower dies, is it reborn?
And when dousing passions
I write a poem,
will it get printed
or forgotten?
In myriad dreams, how
do we interpret?
Dreams a waking call,
cats do not have nine lives,
one like us, like a poem.
