The kitten’s play
A small poem about these spiritlifters
Have you seen kittens play,
Oblivious to the tumults, nothing impeding their way
Ever curious, pouncing on things that move,
A treat for sour eyes and soup for the soul
I always ponder and wonder in awe
The dynamites these furballs are,
Ever invigorated, ready for a petty fight
Yo human; behold the pretty sight!
Rambunctious little rascals they are,
The unruliness, cute and soothing,
No bars, no circumscription, no blame
the world is their playground
No qualms, not a thing in the world to worry
The world moves at its own pace, there’s no hurry
The sharp eyes innocuous, they mock at me,
Their glance inquisitorial, saying where did you lose all the glee
They suckle with eyes closed, pawing mom’s belly, still unweaned
A little milk, a slumber, and all the play in the world,
And the love of their mother, the caressing and the licks reassuring,
Blessed are these kittens, as I look at them in envious joy!
They play and run, the tiny room is their playground,
Watching them is a medicine for any diseased mind
They are my alchemists, fill my heart and lift my spirits
As their innocence looks deep inside the bereaved heart
My dampened soul screams unabated,
Self incarcerated by my own whims
Stuck in a quagmire, getting muddier with every struggle,
I cry, oh! When do I become free like these kittens?
