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Gnger the cat was ‘never other than at ease’
• I WAS so fond of Ginger, (Library cat’s story comes to an end, April 9), who used so often to sit on my lap, I wrote this about him:
Ginger, the library cat, is always there,
So fat, heavily sprawled on a chair,
Always asleep, or seemingly so,
Except for the times you become aware
Of his enigmatic, green- eyed stare.
Such a pleasant life he leads
Never other than at his ease,
Rarely moving, except to amble
Leisurely round the adjoining garden.
Circling the plum tree, replacing the one
Under which in time long gone, a doomed poet,
Ravished by the song of a nightingale
Memorably wrote a poem distilling its beauty,
Of which all mankind is a beneficiary.
Does Ginger, the fat cat, know about that?
I doubt it, and yet in the unfathomable
Depths of his green eyes something is astir,
As if he, too, of such splendour is aware.
LYNNE MUNN
NW6
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