but I don’t know where she goes when she goes.
She will be here, then quietly disappear
when you’re not looking. Nobody knows
the way that she does it; she’s quiet and quick.
I look in each possible hiding-place
but she’s nowhere at all. It’s a very good trick.
I call her name but she won’t show her face.
She’s not in the cupboard or under the bed,
not under the table or behind the couch,
not in the kitchen scrounging for food –
and the doors are all shut so she can’t have gone out.
Then, just when everyone’s quite given up,
there she is suddenly, in the middle of the floor,
sitting pretty or curled up asleep …
though you know she wasn't there before.
The cat with white whiskers is lovely to see
when she gazes up with those wide, calm eyes.
‘What?’ she seems to say, ‘Looking for me?
I can’t understand that. It’s such a surprise.
Where would I have gone? What could I have done?’
and she licks her paw with a nonchalant air.
The cat with white whiskers has fooled you again.
She’s here, of course … only sometimes she’s – where?
For Day 6 of April Poetry Month at 'imaginary garden with real toads' we are Celebrating Children's Poetry and invited to write a poem that children might enjoy. I hope adults do too!