Remembered Trash
Jenny Bowler
as I sit on this dusty bench with no companion.
Creak, creak.
The sounds of a lazy afternoon
cover up the lack of your mischievous purrs.
Where did you go, without me?
Your life, too short, started with little hope.
Your young mother left you,
and all your fallen siblings too,
at the mercies of this carnivorous world,
but you yelled "no" and survived.
You were trash in the beginning,
yet I took you home.
I cleaned you up into a friend.
You, contrary as ever, became family.
My little sister,
I was woken every day by your paws
pitter-patter on my feet,
a pounce by my nose.
You nibbled at my fingertips
like they were the last specks of food
in the entire world.
For those short months,
your tiny grey ears,
atop your fluffy cloud body,
and light blue eyes
were my world.
You, my playful kitten Basura,
who ran just a little too far away
will forever run circles in my heart.
As I stand, and walk
past the dumpster
into my home.
For the last time,
"Goodbye."