Poetry

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Do you love me, little Cinder?
Little black green-eyed cat,
the kind that supersition doesn't like,
you don't have a mean bone in your body.
Through the times of my depression,
you never left my side.
When everyone else had gone to work
the house was never empty because I had you.
You are so eager to cuddle
and snuggle,
the rhythm of your purr so soothing.
You sense when I'm blue
and reach out your soft paw in a comforting hug,
peering deeply into my eyes as if to say, "Please don't be sad."
Soft, furry little head nuzzling
up against my face.
I put my arm around your warm body
and sleep as I did when I was a child
cuddled up to my teddy bear.
Now your legs are limp as a doll's
and no longer support your body.
The cortizone shots helped at first,
but I know the brain tumor is growing.
You've been my friend for fourteen years.
Friends never let each other down.
Another appointment for tomorrow.
Another shot of cortizone.
You've gotten used to it.
Tomorrow it will be different,
I promise.
Tomorrow my heart will break
because I don't know what I'll do without you.
But for tonight, we'll sleep,
your head on my pillow
and I'll cover you with the blanket
and ask one last time
"Do you love me, little Cinder?"

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