Death of the Cat

DEATH OF THE CAT Cats are all the same? Zimbo was his name He was an Asian Mackerel, That’s his colouring term technical. About nine years old, everyone’s pet Went missing for days, daughter began to fret Older brothers found him cold On road, by a car he’d been rolled Just one knock clean on his head And the poor wee thing was dead Zimbo was laid in garden by the boys With weeping daughter adding his toys. I’d been working away for two years The States, Moscow, Algiers Missed the kids and their growing lives Taking them on walks and drives Missed their exams, prizes, colds and ‘flu s What birthday dress to choose, what daily news. It’s I who should have been there at The final farewell to the family cat This one event showed clearly to me How I’d lost my role in the family. Just a little creature which had to depart ? I still feel pain from my heart-dart.