Sunday, July 1, 2018

The Choice

Long ago we made the choice
To give our cats a finite world
In trade for greater age.

Day on day transpires for them
Within the same few walls,
Latched windows, bolted doors.

They can see the flowers,
The trees, birds, squirrels,
Sky and clouds around,

But will never touch or smell
Or catch more than muffled sounds
From this cushioned cage.

Was this wise or selfish?
Only the cats could judge
And they have no voice.

©2018, John I. Blair, 6/19/2018

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