My Cats Death
Filled with no more than a breath of warm fresh air,
exhausted, he dies
His last breath, heavy and sullen,
pours out from between his cherry pink lips
Flowing down the sides of his, light blue blush cheeks,
constantly licking its way down
From there it flows about the floor in desperate need of human muzzle
Dragging itself from here to there and spreading itself out thin
When it came upon a sleeping cat,
with no remorse of stinking foul, crept inside its nose
The cat wakes, places several masks upon its face,
then blows it right back out
The breath, lighter now,
finds hope in only death and dies
The cat perplexed can only sigh.
Copyright © Rosemarie Peterson | Year Posted 2010
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