My roof is so empty now, so forlorn
Though the game, you inspired, still goes on
Raindrops are tears of my window’s pain, they mourn
Through the night, again, I am alone.

I took a crooked branch sawn by my own hand
Of all hereabouts it’s the strangest wood
Made a cross and stabbed that sad hour glass sand
So the outlines of your face mark your grace, as it should.

I’m still working through this quiet grief
Quite thinking on your grave to daily add a feather
My missing you certainly can’t be brief
Not at all dependent upon the weather

Like you, though feline through and through
You’d leap up every night, after roaming on and on
To give your plaintive “Meeeeow!” (Oh I So miss you)
My “Who IS it?!?” is forever gone.