Like the old winter tomcat

gone for months,

you have returned.

Here. Lap the warm milk of laughter

from this bowl of affection.

Chew morsels of understanding.

I will pull out burrs of disappointment,

brush away the bristles of loneliness,

cleanse your icy wounds from indifference.

Curl up on this loyal lap

and purr words of friendship.

No one takes your place at this hearth,

and the pantry is always stocked.