|
| |
The Cat's Story
I hear every noise and the house stirs
as he lies in bed. His door is shut
but I smell him on everything
he’s touched in the loft.
I listen to the sound of the house
as it breathes.
He allows minutes on his lap
each morning, pats my head
and brushes me away.
Then he is gone.
O how he forgets he’s mine.
He says he’s doing errands
but he forgets what’s important—
Me.
I go downstairs to check
on the others as they
sleep through the day.
I go upstairs and sit
on a box at the top
of the steps.
The room is an empty chamber.
Copyright ©
Mike Bayles
|
|