The Dying Cat
The Dying Cat
We walk him to the
edge of the meadow,
at the very border
where the sun gets
snuffed out by shadows.
There are so many
mysteries in the dark
that only he may see
or maybe not.
We keep inventing hopes.
It's in our nature and
he is still here
with us in the sun,
but only for
the last few moments as
he needs to depart,
only the last few
moments of
light in his eyes.
"Good boy," we say
as we always do
to comfort him with habit,
and touch his lonely head.
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