The Way Station

They arrive paw-weary at our gate.
Bedraggled, thin, fur unkempt.
Some lacking the strength to even meow.
Others eyes are filled with such torment.

The world has kicked them in the teeth.
Wary of humans, often they hide.
But all are welcomed at our place.
And are quietly ushered inside. :foot: :foot:

They act like having food makes them criminal.
They stare at the bowl, bewildered and tense.
But one deep sniff of the tempting food,
They will swallow all evidence.

The world has athletes who rake in the cash.
As fans cram into stadium seats.
But I am a fan of the majestic cat.
Who can jump and land on its feet.

Or somersault in the summertime.
Out in the garden chasing for bugs.:flower:
These felines are not asking for much.
Just a tender touch, food and some hugs.

Seems this house has become a transit station
Where those come who've been castaway.
We give what we can, we receive so much more.
Till the angels come take them away.

Bravo! Your poem is a superb reflection of what you deliberately witness, in the name of compassion. Thank you so much for giving us, via your words, such a beautiful meeting-place for our hearts. Bless little Fern and all the cats whose lives you touched — and whose lives touched you in return.



=^..^=

Hissy....you and all like you are true guardian angels..tending the oasis for the weary travellers through a hard path. God is watching and smiling at you. There will be a special pair of wings awaiting you. Thanks !!!!!!

Hissy:

That was beautiful. It brought tears to my eyes.
Michele

Thank you for sharing your beautiful poem and a glimpse into your beautiful heart