Saturday, September 10, 2016

Papa

The night sky watched through the windows as I sat with you.
Your breath rattled heavy in your chest
I stroked your whiskers, so white, so soft
People who didn't know you would whisper, "Santa Claus"
Your eyes would no longer open, your hand could no longer squeeze
But you could still hear and so I sang to you
You told me once when I was young not to sing
That I didn't have the voice for it
I have been self-conscious my whole life, not wanting to sing in front of others
But that night, song was one of the last gifts I could give you
So I sang Amazing Grace
And stroked your soft whiskered cheeks 'til you passed.

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