POEM:
The clock ticks again,
Now it’s already 1 a.m.
A cat waits by a window.
The wind blows even harder,
The rain comes down faster,
The lighting then flashes,
Followed by thunder crashes,
The cat waits by the window.
“When will you come home?” Is what the cat wonders.
He continues to sit there, all alone.
No sign of his owner.
Or even the car.
No call of his name
Or clink of the treat jar.
No thumping of footsteps
Or the rustling of a coat.
No cheerful laugh
Nothing to indicate his owner is home.
The cat waits by the window.
Now it’s half past 4.
Still no sound of the door opening,
Scraping across the floor
No sound of the lock clicking
No sight of those familiar shoes
No sight of the lights blinking on
No whiff of perfume.
A whole day passes
And then a whole week
The cat waits by the window.
Still waiting, waiting, waiting.
And longing, longing, longing.
Although it is clear by now
His owner is never returning home.