An oatmeal cookie-furred cat
runs into the local shoe shop.
Poor thing, says a stranger
with a smile as deep as a bath tub.
They have to pay twice as much as us.
The high street has a softness to it today.
Bakeries are giving away the smell of bread
for free, speed bumps are saying Thank you,
cafes are asking people how their nights went.
You’re in my arms eating raisins
oblivious to the fact you were a witness
to the greatest joke of all time.

© Carl Burkitt 2022