As I walked I met a black cat

Sitting beside the trash can

Black cat and I

Stared each other in the eye.

His were vivid green

Mine as it’s always been

He meowed a bit

And he moved to my feet.

He looked mighty harmless

His velvety fur was spotless

And since he was nameless

I called him cuteness.

He couldn’t cast any spell

As far as I could tell

It must be an old wives tale

A superstitious belief gone stale.

To paint a poor kitty black

Not cutting it any slack.

I returned to pore over my mail

And indulged in a tall, cold glass of ginger ale.

Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha

Superstition, Daily Post Prompt