i’m standing at my porch watching some cats
they’re young ones, still in their teens really
and i remember the day they first appeared
the mother crawled under a porch to have them
she disappeared for a few days
i thought she had moved on or been killed
there’s a pack of stray dogs that hunt here
i feared for you in some part of my mind
but those were issues i couldn’t stop for
then you appeared one day
and the next, i saw your kittens in their corner
i went about my day, happy you were alive
then your children grew and turned colors
an orange tabby with gloves i’ve named Harry
a dashing young boy in a tux i’ve dubbed Cook
then there’s a grey one that stays far back
he sits in his tiny corner and is content there
that one is Bo
i stand at my porch and watch you play now
two children exploring
as much of they dared anyways
and one child with his books in his cranny
Harry runs around an old cedar tree stump
Cook is trailing behind him, with all his might
and Bo is sleeping peacefully
it is a beautiful day