The Black and White Kitten

The little black and white kitten was cold

Lost in unnatural weeds all alone.

From a window one watched, as she struggled to wake

Her eyes mere tears and her body a shake.
Her unfortunate mom had a litter

In the violent cold middle of winter.

She was the runt of four kittens who died

Yet only she was the one who survived.
Then her sorrow compounded her ache,

Both her body and soul did abate.

Without siblings she rose not to play

And grew lonelier, colder each day.
But stronger than her sorrow she feared

Outstretched hands of a stranger who cared

She fled for her life against her chances to live

And broke a heart that desired to save.
The nights stretched out colder and longer

But her body grew not any stronger.

The faint beat of her heart finally slowed

And with morning she did not grow warm.
The last thing she saw, were hands out to seize her,

So that in the end, she died not from winter,

But expending her last bit of life in mad error

The sad outdoor kitten, expired with terror.
On t’other side, woke a heavenly form,

Her tears all dried, and her body quite warm.

Curled in a lap in a chair in a home,

The ferrel cat passed, but a house cat was born!

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