A cat poem

My cat
Is a stealth
Cuddler

She generally likes to be
Near but separate
Sitting on a cat tower
Or an unoccupied couch arm
In the same room as her people
And purring

But sometimes
If I am awake at the right time
I am aware of the foot of my bed shifting
And a cat-weight settling
At my feet

I can't see her but
I can feel the warmth and weight
On the arch of my left foot
And if I stretch my toes I can touch her
But I do not, because we have
An unspoken agreement
That neither of us ever admits
She is there

It would not do, after all,
To ruin her aloof image