Forgive me if I weep – he was so sweet,
That little cat who scampered through the house,
Or curled asleep upon the window ledge,
Though still alert to stir of leaf or mouse.
But now he’s gone, whose soft paw often touched
My cheek at the first glint of day;
Or with arched back, skipped through the room,
Enticing me to enter in his play.
Oh God of little cats-my earnest plea
Is that while things are strange to him You may
Scratch his ears sometimes, let him chase
Celestial mice along the Milky Way,
Just for a little while until he finds
Some chosen spot upon the Outer Gate
When he is weary of his running, where he may
Curl in the sunshine, there to sleep-and wait.