A small scrap of weary life
limp and gray,
lays on a heating pad on the floor.
I’ve come to say good-bye.
This barely alive little thing
was mine once upon a time.
An acrobat
full of leaps and bounces,
a wild thing
in the smallest cat-body I’ve ever seen.
Little Lizzie,
worn out and nearly lifeless now;
a tiny string-chasing kitten
twenty quick years ago.
I stroke her bony back
and she looks at me
as though she still remembers.


About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard.
This entry was posted in death, emotions, human interest, love, nostalgia, pets, poetry, spirituality. Bookmark the permalink.

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