Song of Sorrow
not yet Come
August 9,
2014
The old black cat
walking laboriously
To the food –
then back to the sun
With his left
back leg dragging more.
I watch him
glistening in the sun
And wait to watch
his ribs move with his breathing.
He is still here.
I sit, I write
A soft snort
comes from the corner where he sleeps
He is still here.
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