Black Cat Moan
On a mist-veiled morning, when even hope had grown weary, a trembling black cat stopped at our door.
Its frightened eyes held the last spark of trust.
The world called it an omen of misfortune, yet gentle hands opened where others turned away.
Winter found warmth beneath a borrowed blanket. Day after day, a stranger became family.
The black fur so many feared to touch became the warmth that filled our silent evenings.
Then fate arrived.
We stood helpless, watching its frail body struggle for one more breath.
Its fading eyes asked for nothing-not mercy, not tears-
only one more moment beneath the sky that had finally called it home.
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