a poem in my pocket

eyes of molten gold
just might melt me
and my solid resolve
meow, Sir Siri, but
aren’t you a lapful?!
oh yes, you’re the
purrr-fect gentleman
standing by the door
with those cloying eyes
that beg to come IN!
if I were to acquiesce,
would you leap upon
the softest pillow and
claw me with incessant
requests for stroking?
insistent rubs for my
undivided attentions?
though born in a barn,
you’re a real charmer,
house cat wanna-be,
beggar extraordinaire!