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.
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