Have the clouds no mercy,
The heavens no heart of size
Enough to make him well again
And make life his prize?
For his cries of woe
Began the flow,
Lament from my eyes.
Have the men no pow'r,
The machines no touch to heal
The sick , the wailing, the pain'd one,
And pluck for him a flower
Born of the flora
In the form of
A less-saddened hour.
Author notes
I found a stray the other day and saved him. So I thought. It's been rough. My parents wouldn't let me keep him. So we took him to my friend's. She couldn't keep him, after two nights. My neighbors wanted him, but only as an outside cat. Within the first hour of him being an outside cat here, he managed to get into a vicious fight and get hit by a car.
we found him in the bushes and we're pretty sure there's something wrong with his leg and his neck. We can't pet him without him just wailing and wailing.
It's horrible.
I saved the cat with good intentions, only to get him possibly killed.
A contest entry
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Comments
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At least you tried my friend, at least you tried ... we can't save them all, but we can try - and, every little helps. perhaps even that small amount of kindness you showed him enriched his life in some way
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