The never-ending blue ceiling seemed
Calm, blowing a cold wind
Over my bare feet as I sat on the bench, wasting
Time on idle talk. A soft sound
Made itself heard to me. I knew
The source of this melody.
I picked up the gentle, furry creature. So small
So innocent. I held her, gazed
Into the brilliant blue orbs in her large head.
So disproportionate – yet – so breath-taking.
She flopped off my hand and stumbled
Towards the tattered basket. I followed.
In that tattered basket lay
5 more strays. A chorus of purrs radiating
From the small things.
One by one they approached
Me: a new object in their life.
Their squeals ceased, their heads buried
In my knitted sweater: my lap a new basket.
Mews melted into purrs.
They would grow into strong cats, but for now
A cuddle and a nap. Already
thinking about tomorrow.

I wish tomorrow had never come,
I let the sight sink
In. Eyes gripped by her mangled ****** corpse.
My vision blurred, hot salty tears trickled
Onto my lips. Guts
Spilled over the coarse concrete. Matted, sticky
Crimson fur clung to her fragile, dead body.
Black tire tracks trailing away into the dark.
Crimson to black. The end of a melody, a song
Not sung for long.