Locked inside the house,
an old cat sits by a window
staring from unfathomable amber eyes
out to where a young blonde girl frolics
with a plump tabby kitten.

The old cat looks on in silence
while the little girl prances and shrieks
and the foolish tabby scampers and tumbles.
Once the old cat was a frenetic tumbler too,
but those kittenish days are long vanished.

The old cat, inside, gazes outside
at what its reality will be henceforth:
no longer the cutest, the favorite, the centerpiece,
but an afterthought relegated to autopilot love,
petted ever-less-frequently by the little blonde girl.

The old cat, unnoticed, contemplates
the two romping heedless youngsters
playing, playing in their innocent world,
so unaware that they too will fall prey to time...
Then the old cat yawns, and curls up to sleep.

LW