Her Majesty Waits and Waits and Waits

Her Majesty sits at the door, waiting,
where the jamb meets the floor
There she sits, waiting and
waiting and waiting

She stretches
Her Majesty paws at the door, high,
reaching for the gold knob,
the bright gleaming handle on the closed door
     She stretches,
and then she settles, and she sits again,
waiting at the door

Moments later, she cries;
she turns and cries
Her Majesty’s whiskers and ears up, high,
turned from the door, she cries,
     and having cried, Her Majesty sits,
sits and waits at the door

     She flicks her tail as she waits,
as Her Majesty sits at the closed door
She sits and flicks her tail, and Her Majesty
waits a bit more, a bit more waiting
Waiting and waiting at the door

Whether inside or out,
she waits at the door, Her Majesty,
where the jamb meets the floor
     There she sits,
waiting and waiting and waiting
If in, to go out; if out, to go in;
there she waits and waits and waits for the door
only so Her Majesty can begin waiting again