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SONG FOR SMOKY


SONG FOR SMOKY
by S L Smith

The empty cat bed in the corner,
Abandoned toys beneath the chair,
Unopened cans still in the cupboard,
Hard to believe that you’re not there.
No muddy pawprints on the counters,
No furballs sicked up on the stair,
No purring shape upon my pillow,
Hard to believe that you’re not there.
The grassy mound there in the garden,
The absence of your soothing purr,
I still look round,
still half-expecting,
To see your form,
but you’re not there.
A trick of light,
a sudden shadow,
A moving curtain,
draft of air,
A glimpse of shape at edge of vision,
Still can’t believe that you’re not there.
One day there’ll be another feline,
To accept this love I need to share,
But the cat bed lies awhile,
abandoned,
For now,
it’s hard that you’re not there.

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