Mow of Pillows

Black velvet fur,
precious emerald sparkles
as lemon shaped eyes,
a bobbed tail buzzing,
hair like whiskers branching
out with happy white blossoms,
a motor starts, ending
only when she falls asleep.

this poem was made for the cat i love dearly, even when she shreds my things.
though this poem was made when she lived, it serves to keep her memory alive.