A whiskered face in the vanity light,
A shadow soft and grey,
She watches brushes take their flight
To start the busy day.
A paw reaches out for a tube of gold,
A rolling, rattling prize,
As shimmering powders, bright and bold,
Reflect in amber eyes.
She trots through dust of rose and peach,
A velvet-footed thief,
With velvet ears and paws that reach
Beyond a cat’s belief.
A swipe of liner, sharp and thin,
To mimic feline grace,
While she, with milk upon her chin,
Simply grooms her face.
Two winged looks in the mirror clear,
One painted, one innate,
The artist and the overseer
In a morning-hush debate.
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