A Sonnet On The Passing Of A Friend's Cat
How can a cat connect, yet stay adrift?
How can it share a look that says so much?
The 'Cat''s acceptance of 'Us' is a gift
endorsed by letting carers dare to touch,
To pet, to preen, to scratch and purrhaps(?) brush?
(Not knowing when a claw may come to view,
and interrupt our empathizing rush,
as not one other pet, could ever do.)
They show us only glimpses of respect
whenever they see fit, or they're just bored.
Their fixed visages brim with intellect
and smugly show they know, how they're adored.
So when they pass away. what fills the gap
of those who chose to laze upon our lap?
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