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Lisa Jenkins Poem
A small dark shape, alone, afraid,
Within the confines of a cardboard box.
A stranger offering sustenance yet no relief,
No place to sleep.
'We'll put her to sleep' they say.
The stranger turns and cries,
Can’t bear to think of her demise.
The stranger begs and pleads with friends,
'I will not lie, she may yet die,
But please consider taking her in,
Ill health aside, she's a loving thing'.
I heard the plea from friends of friends.
Without a thought I made her mine,
No matter of the cost or time.
Now she sits upon my lap,
This happy, healthy, purring mass,
Contented in the knowledge that
She has a home, she's someone's cat.
Copyright © Lisa Jenkins | Year Posted 2009
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