The cat

Distractedly combing,
Through the narrow,
Overstuffed, and dusty,
Alleyways,
Of an old antique shop,
Two burning eyes,
Carved out of a wooden cat,
Arrested my aimless loitering.
I stood there hypnotized,
Unable to move,
As if possessed by their desire,
To derive every breath,
Every drop of life,
Running through my veins.
As if the cat,
Wanted to come alive.

Poor lifeless creature,
Only if it knew,
That this body,
Is an artful feigner,
Carrying a soul,
Colder than a dead man's.
© 2009 Rituparna Das