The Blue Cat

Anxiety

The blue cat,
A calm draft against the nape,
It scurries across your floor
And over your tables.
Not a sound.
It finds you,
Beneath the dim light
As it's claws tears at your memoirs
Nonchalantly.

The blue cat
Inspects your every move,
Not a single motion goes unnoticed.
The lids falling and opening,
The tremor against your chest,
And the slight shifts of discomfort.
It is amused.

Is it strange.
Is it strange,
That it toys with the hourglass.
Hopefully , it doesn't break.