Goodnight

Birds chirped happily in their nest,
the bed dipped under the weight of that gentle grace.
Gently does it,
with a butt of that head that house those unusual eyes.
Those eyes that spoke humanly.

Orange cascaded,
falling like feathers to litter the sheets,
camouflaged within the rainbow cotton.
Slowly that hand stretched, 
reaching for one last touch.

Light vanished.
The soft purring in that lonely ear was no more,
a figment of a distant memory.
A feeling lost in selfish time,
lost in consuming darkness.

Lost in the desire to exist.
Not again will the bed dip under the gentle grace.
Not again will it be gentle, but a never ending storm.
Not again will those orange feathers cascade and settle on rainbow cotton.
The soft hum of purrs will fall upon closed lids of unusual eyes.

Soft orange will never experience it.
Experience the touch of love,
the touch of loyalty or affection.
It fades to brown, to a black as it sits on that schrank to eternally sleep.
Soft orange, goodnight.

Author's Note

This is written in loving memory of my other furry half, and my best friend: my beloved cat Tiger who died at the age of 11, February 2016.