Patches on the porch again,
Curled up like a ball,
One eye shut and one eye half
Open at us all.
If I tiptoed very soft
He would raise his head,
Blink at me and tuck it down
Like he’d rather stay in bed.
He was white and brown in spots,
Soft along his side.
If you picked him up too much,
He wriggled free with pride.
But if the day was slow and warm
And nobody made noise,
He’d let me sit beside him there
As quiet as my toys.