bionca



She is so quiet, she scarcely makes a noise,
Except, on rare occasions when she’s playing with her toys.
She has a certain grace to her, that no one else could,
Her meow is so much softer than a normal cat’s would.
She rests in her cardboard box, licking her silky fur,
And when I creep up on her, she begins to softly purr.
She sits up ‘til dark, staring into the night,
And when she jumps off a ledge she seems to take flight.
At the sound of the slightest noise, she scampers down the halls,
Sometimes, she seems to bounce off all the walls.
Her meow is so soft, it’s almost like a whine,
But when I’m feeling down, she shows up just in time.
She always looks so delicate, her whiskers long and curled
I wonder how she must feel living in a humans’ world.
She is forever grooming herself, always nice and clean,
She takes pride in the way that she is seen.
All of the other cats view her as the “child.”
Which I think is true, for she is rather wild.
I love her very much, with her I’m truly smitten,
And she will always be called “my very special kitten.”




-- sarah