Daffni Percival
Death in Winter
Quite dead he was,
a feline gift
beside my doormat,
a snow white gash
upon the floor.
I saw his grandsire once
alive and leaping through
winter-wet bracken
in the snow.
I thought of kings and lords
in velvet cloaks
and ermine tassels
and I know which I prefer.
For he was far more regal
even in death
than those who wore his fur.
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