An echo called to me last night
At first I thought it was the cat but he was curled up and sound asleep
So I went to the window that held the moon full and bright
And waited.
And waited a bit more,
But nothing, not even a peep.
I went to sit back down at my desk to attempt a poem
But this time I heard a moan
Was it a moan? Maybe something more like a groan,
So I padded back over to the window with the moon high and bright.
That’s where I saw him.
He had dragged himself from the park
Limping with his broken arm draped over his chest, covering his heart.
I walked over to the cat, stroked his long, warm fur.
Then grabbed my shovel and went downstairs
To finish what I started.