A Trash Can For A Grave

I wept when I saw him, white fur stained blood red, 
eyes wide open starring, sightless now in death. Must
have tried to cross, during the dark of night, but oh 
Dear Lord he never made it, over to the other side. The 
driver mustn't of cared, when he saw white fur, a gleam
in his lights, just ran him down and left him. Dead or 
dying in the night.

I wonder did someone love him, if they did why was he out?
Don't they know the danger a cat can face, roaming out of 
the light. Will they miss him now he's gone, and cry and moan
and weep, then rush out and get another, another to wander the
streets. Or was he one of the unwanted, will I be the only 
one to mourn. My tears are falling fast now, as I look at him 
lying in the rain. To think he'll no more smell the spring chase 
a mouse or a butterfly and the sun will never warm his fur again.

He lies there so forlornly, mid the rubbish of the street, his 
body so battered and broken, left for the trashman to sweep up
when he comes to clean the street. People going past stare at me
then at my feet, then ask "Was he  your's, I answer "No" and 
they say "Why then do you weep"? It seems they cannot understand
how I could care for this little one, though I've met him only in
death. And one thing I know for sure, he deserves much better than
this, just a trash can for his grave.

By
     Grace Tolson

The Cat On My Pillow

The cat on my pillow purrs softly, as he drifts 
on a sleepy cloud, he shouldn't be there, but
he doesn't care, he's sure he'll be allowed. 
He likes it there, it's comfortable, he knows that's the important 
thing. His soft gray fur glows from the sunlight shining in and there's 
a halo round his head. My little baby Jonathan, sleeping on my bed.

As he falls asleep his thoughts take flight.
He dreams he's padding softly along side a little stream, and he 
takes the time to stop and watch, the fishes as they swim. He crosses 
to the other side by a bridge of stepping stones, then wanders
into the woods, to hear the birdies sing. He comes upon a waterfall
and stops to watch it glisten, then turns to see the butterflies and
the colors on their wings.

He stretches paws in front of him and rolls onto his back as he 
wakes up from his nap. He lifts his head to listen, yes Mommy's 
moving about, he thinks he'll go and see her, he's hungry now you
see. He jumps down from my pillow pads softly out to me and 
quietly says meow, I'm hungry, Mother dinner if you please.

By
     Grace Tolson

Tiny

Each day when we come home,
As soon as we open the door, 
A little cat comes to greet us,
Dancing on tiny black paws
She's glad we're home,
And shows it by her purr,
She rubs against our legs, 
And tickles us with her fur.

Her coat is black and glossy,
Her eyes are green and bright,
And she's our special darling,
Our hearts own true delight.
She fills our home with love,
Showing that love each day,
As she snuggles, and kisses us,
In her very own special way.

Eight years we've had her love,
We hope she never leaves us,
Because she gives so much joy,
And never makes a fuss.
We love our gentle little cat,
She's never cruel or spiteful,
She's our precious darling Tiny,
So kind, so true, so delightful.

By
     Grace Tolson

Why Can't Cats Fly?

My kitty sat by the window
To watch all the birds fly past.
He turned to look at me,
Such sadness in his eyes ,
And gave a great big sigh
And in a mournful voice,
Did cry,
Said tell me please oh,
Why can't I,
Be like the birdies and fly.

I watch them there,
Up in the sky,
And wonder why,
A kitty cat like I
Can't join them,
In the sky.

I wish I was a birdie,
Instead of a kitty cat,
I'd fly across,
The heavens,
Laugh at all
Other kitty cats,
That tried to 
Catch my I,
As I flew by.
Cats are clever,
This I know,
They find trees
To climb,
But it would be
Much more fun, 
If you didn't have
To run
I'd rather be a bird
And Fly.

By
     Grace Tolson

Cat Poems 1     Cat Poems 2     Cat Poems 3    Cat Poems 4

Short Stories