Stefan, My Russian Tomcat

When I get up in the morning
I see him waiting, purring
At my bed room door,
He shows me
His tiny teeth and tongue,
Runs to me
And puts his face
Against my knee
For a little pat and a rub.

When I get home in the evening
He greets me at the door
In his guttural sounds,
First softly
Then with a little roar.

While I am writing this poem,
He’s sitting at my feet
Singing his song
In his throaty tones.

He wants my touch
He wants my love,
He wants reassurance of my love.
He is Stefan, my Russian tomcat,
He follows me around at home.