Poet’s Companion
Little cat who cries to me in a voice so mournfully,
You find the window's sill uncomfortable and won't sit still
When you look out to sing your song at perceived nothing all night long.
Little cat who cries to me in a voice most mournfully,
I know not what to make of it as you repeat your noisy fit.
You're not distracted by the birds I cannot write or think of words.
Little cat who cries to me in your voice too mournfully,
You take no food or pause to drink. The paper remains free of ink.
My head reverberates your cry and deep frustration makes us sigh.
Little cat who cries to me with your song so mournfully,
I don't notice, 'til I'm found, lying, lifeless on the ground.
Then finally realize you cried because weeks ago, I'd died.
Little cat who mourns for me, a ghost who only you can see,
The efforts on you take their toll. Quietly give up your soul.
Exhausted from the noise you made, silence follows as you fade.
Little cat who cried for me forever keeps me company.
The living worry when they hear your cries as my ghost draws near.
Empty pages fill themselves, lining books upon the shelves.
Little cat who died for me brings my work for all to see.
Your relentless caterwaul brought attention to my fall.
Now I'm writing books galore, as the readers scream for more.
Little cat who haunts for me
Sings my poems beautifully
Through the misty fog of night until once again there's light.
Peace is only at the bend of a book's spine, so read! The End