It was not a usual day! 

From his resting place, Cat surveyed the world with restless eyes. Watching, wary, waiting for what? Not even Cat that day could say. Could not even explain why!

It was if the world was waiting and a tension hung strong, powerful in the air. Mid summer had just passed and Autumn seem to sneak about leaving omens, offering portents, subtle signs that it was coming even though summer was still there.

The sun was bright the day was hot and tempers were short and sharp. Cat watched it all keeping out the way. Then he heard it.

Coming from down the street.

On the corner?

The sound of a blues mans harp!

Cat leapt down and walked with a swagger, like he owned the town, keeping out of the way of the sidewalks then crossing the road avoiding any cars that could mow him unknowingly down.

The park was busy. The day had brought most of the folk out to sit in the shade or catch some of the glorious sun. The usual park life escapades when all is said and done.

Cat was known and happily as he strolled on through the park accepting any fuss that was offered, playing now and then, enjoying the happiness, the larks.

The music had changed, the blues gone soft, grown old, changed by the addition of a voice. As if a stone had hit calm water, so like a ripple the noise in the park had softened at the hearing of the sound. The music was delicious, the song so pure and so profound.

Cat made it to a gateway and looked across to where they on the corner stood, an ancient man so ragged, a girl youthful and familiar, one from the neighbourhood.

Cat knew them both well!

He a tramp, a dark skinned grey bearded drifter that passed through from time to time. She a shy and quiet beauty, pale skinned golden haired, the two could not be more unalike! But the connection now between seemed to still the world, bring a calm to the tension that was causing gentle souls to suddenly unravel and slowly loose their minds.

He played.

She sung.

People stopped, the stood, they listened, the relaxed. And the park became so quiet, the mood as pure as honey wax.

Cat lay and basked. The sun carresed his fur. And the blues mans music gave him pleasure, the singers voice made him mellow made him purr.

He played music from his heart and soul, she found the words, made love to his sentiments, gave the listeners lyrics as beautiful as diamonds worth more than platinum, silver and every shade of gold.

The sun beat down and time stood still and the song was a rapture pure, and any woe was banished, every sorrow forgotten no longer then endured. 

The singletons found hope, the lovers reached out and pulled each other close, Cat closed his eyes and purred. Smiling, he enjoyed them both the most.