That Short Life
The tame wildcat owned by my neighbour
Came at night, soft and guilty,
Plucking birds from their nests.
Blood and feather marked our porch
And the courtyard
We told the cat's owner about the killing
But night after night
The quiet slaughter continued
Until at last the prowling ceased,
And he was gone from our doorstep.
Days latter, he lay death
Curled in a corner
Of the neighbour's house.
Though he brought us discomfort,
My sorrow ran deep for the brief companion,
For a little while he lived among us
And left a hollow pawprint on my days.
( Poem of TODAY on 01.06.2026 )
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