Though she pounces,
Her touch is soft,
And her snarl holds no malice.
In her eyes the purest innocence,
That could never ****
Or know pain or sadness.
Her tiny frame will not grow,
Into a predator,
But a companion who's subtle fur,
Will be a comfort and soak up,
Any tears her master may cry.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
Though she pounces,
Her touch is soft,
And her snarl holds no malice.
In her eyes the purest innocence,
That could never ****
Or know pain or sadness.
Her tiny frame will not grow,
Into a predator,
But a companion who's subtle fur,
Will be a comfort and soak up,
Any tears her master may cry.
For K
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