My cat stares up with golden eyes,
my laughter causing her surprise.
From lounging on the heating vent,
she rises with her long tail bent.
I scratch her back and say with glee
what I in my own thoughts did see:
"Forgive me that you're not so high
that you should fall as low as I."
She cannot go to depths I know,
nor catch a sight of my delight.
I stay a moment petting her,
enjoying the soft touch of fur,
thinking how at my prayers now
my prideful heart undid my vow,
how to myself I seemed so grand
to ask forgiveness from His hand,
and with split heart had prayed in twain
as like a madman half insane:
'Twas one thought said, "Forgive me, please."
The other on my pride did seize.
How quick I was to glorify
myself for one small, pious sigh.
Tale Told 