A Man and Two Cats
He proceeds up the walk,
bent and alone.
One man, marching silently toward
the end of his life.
No friends or family to call his own.
Was it really worth all the struggle and strife?
Cast off, like old shoes, just ready to die.
How many times does he ask himself, why?
He stoops to the ground,
to his one saving grace.
Two cats, black as night, receive his embrace.
He'd scorned them in his younger years,
a frivolous waste of money and space.
These animals that are now his reason for breathing.
They will be the ones to usher him out of this life.
He bows his head in gratitude.
bent and alone.
One man, marching silently toward
the end of his life.
No friends or family to call his own.
Was it really worth all the struggle and strife?
Cast off, like old shoes, just ready to die.
How many times does he ask himself, why?
He stoops to the ground,
to his one saving grace.
Two cats, black as night, receive his embrace.
He'd scorned them in his younger years,
a frivolous waste of money and space.
These animals that are now his reason for breathing.
They will be the ones to usher him out of this life.
He bows his head in gratitude.
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