The Lady and Her Cat

One more woman and one more cat. One more sorrow and one more rhyme. One more feeling of the loss and one more fine, frozen evening. Just like things of far away and just like things of long ago, it seems the cat adds to my sorrow. And the jagged lines around the picture frames and the zigzag lines of the bed and the crooked sorrow of a woman alone, bangs and clangs against my head. I like sadness and that’s that, I get much more out of pain. Happiness is all just so flimsy, tin-like hollow, they are nothing compared to my diamond sorrows!