A Moment of Silence, Please

Walking home far
Later than usual,
I made my way,
Twisting and winding,
Through the ally ways.

Pitch dark,

Or very nearly,
Enveloped me,
But I feared the dark
Far less than the bright, violent streets.

Safety belongs to those who stay hidden.

 
The skies cried,
Don't they always?,
Forming puddles beneath
Me that I made
No effort to avoid.
 
Garage lights flickered,
And the moon beamed down,
But it was still a
Chore to see through the
Thick, wet air.

I wondered if anyone could even see me if they tried.

 
Then, beneath the ledge
Of a decaying garage
I saw a little ball of fur
Who sat,
And stared.
 
Seeking a dry spot,
Perhaps even friendship,
I trudged on over
And kneeled before
The tiny creature.

I've never seen such boney anguish.

 
Its' fur was in patches,
Its' spine and ribs
Nearly ripped their way out
Of its' poor, agitated flesh,
And it barley managed a pur as I petted it.

It was there I sat,

For too long, I'm sure,
Caressing, nudging, loving
That sad creature.
It's purs were for so long steady,

I almost didn't notice when they altogether stopped.

 
I kept petting,
Hopeful,
But the warmth
Had already gone,
And I already knew.

At least the kitten didn't have to pass in isolation.