Something Something in return for my friend @griff-crimson.
What has fur, whiskers and paws.
But is also made out of moss?
It's Milo.
Milo is a cat that wonders,
Off in the distance and across waters.
It's in serch of something great,
Something cool and quaint.
That is until it stumbled apond a home.
Run down and full of woe.
But inside sat a diarist.
Who smelled like wonders and yeast.
Milo made itself at home,
Sitting across the writer like a gnome
It didn't disturbed as much as it wondered.
How the diarist could have pondered, something as complex and majestic.
It's been some time since Milo had writen.
Always occupied with fleein and beein
It had never stopped to think.
Maybe it shouldn't always leave so quick.
Overtime, the writer had grown fond of the cat.
Always present and ready to chat.
Milo had grown to love the writer too,
Always full of glee and woo
They have talked and wrote.
About every do and don't.
It has grown to be their thing,
About a cat and it's humble keeper.
