and the rumbling of the storm is your cloak.
Your footfalls are the padding whispers of death
but your silken caress is far more gentle.
Your tail is a question mark and a balance
and you are the king of acrobatic feats.
You know no fear of being made a man's slave
but the oddest provocations can spook you.
You are a warrior, a comforter too,
and your clownish antics are in character.
You dance and leap with great fervor and passion
but you pretend to not notice my pursuit.
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