They carried their bags
full of rocks and seashells,
driftwood and ocean-polished glass
and their shoes full of sand home,
where they decided to make
a magical wall with what
they had found on the beach.
It wouldn't be high,
just a demarcation
of their territory,
a notice to all that this was theirs.
The magic would keep out
anyone who did not possess a key
to their minds and hearts,
but would allow entry to all
who aspired to gentleness,
who practiced kindness,
who spoke softly and let
their dogs carry the big sticks
for them.
Cats of every color
would sit on the wall,
and sleep on it,
and sing on it at night,
celebrating the moon
and their catness,
eyes glowing in the dark
with visions human eyes
failed to perceive,
feelings human hearts
could not contain.
People would sit there too,
and drink champagne from
chipped coffee mugs
and talk about
a different world,
a beautiful place
and laugh and pet the cats
and hope to live
happily sometimes
ever after...
* * * * * *
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