A little cat, a kitten, was lying in the road.
It wasn’t napping, mind you. It was dead and cold.
I threw it off.... to the roadside.
The little cat I did NOT hide.
Now it’s just a cast off, furry, piece of meat,
ready for hungry vultures to come and eat.
It was one small cat. I’m sure ‘twill be forgotten,
and I’m sure a replacement for it... soon will be begotten.
(September 21,2013)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
have a look at 'Categorizing', Bri