Somebody is in the Attic (they think it’s a turret)

Since you’ve been gone I’ve been collecting cats in my turret
and singing the songs to the reckless moths in my turret.

It is brighter here. The sun tries to waltz on the walls and
me. But we hide, the cats, the moths and me, in the turret.

We drink from moon puddles on the floor and sleep in windy
windows at noon. They think it’s just the squirrels in the turret.

(napowrimo day 13…and for