A/N: My teacher woke me up in algebra and told me to be more productive, so I wrote this poem. I've been musing a lot with country scenes, and I imagine this story being told with a sort of soft Southern drawl. I struggled with the ending, as I usually do, but I still like the outcome. Enjoy.

My Tomcat

I don't wish at 11:11 anymore

Because I find myself wanting my old boy

He smells just like Juicy Fruit and Marlboro

And smiles like some sunbaked tomcat

That little crooked grin

He used to stay up late every night

Just to wish upon the clock

But as he was my favorite fool, he never said

What it was he was wishing for

Instead trying to make me laugh

Taunting me with his desires

But deep inside I'm not so sure

He knew what he wanted either

Like he was walking always on blanketed stories

That never had an ending


So he left me for the road that morning

And I watched his fluff of red hair

Bob daintily on the horizon

Until the tears brimmed up so high

I couldn't tell the difference between

The boy I love and the country apple sun


Now when a bright star dots the sky

I open my heart and wish for him

(The stars always mimicked his eyes, anyways)

And that maybe, just maybe

He found what he was looking for all along

Only to realize that his true treasure

Was back home, looking at the sky