my faithful friend

Though the poems of the past seem to lack clarity of what I am

I know what I am and there’s no doubt about that

But I need to be cunning like the prowling cat

A predator of the night, stalking innocents from the light

I cannot deny my nature, yet this human world I am doomed to venture

I will hold my secrets close to my chest; I will not speak too much, well, only in jest

What I’ll learn soon enough, won’t shock me, scare me at all my dear

For I’ve been told of what I am, by a faithful friend who I call Sam