Black Cat

I found this poem that doesn't have a title or a date...but I know what it's about and I know when I wrote it. And I like it. I don't know why. I just put the first part, because it's my favorite...from here on you could tell I was losing what, if your opinion merits any, passion I had to begin with. Hah...here you are :) Remember this?

You're talking about the weather
And I'm closing the windows up
Sipping green tea
From a round gold cup
Warm going down,
Unlike the frigid wind's sound
And
There's a black cat on the cold dark cement
Illuminated by the street lights
And the fireflies,
That should be in hiding
For winter's come and's now residing--
But they're in my stomach now
and coming out my mouth
The words fall out the window
And the black cat just meows.