Solace does not come in darkness
It gives sway to an unspeakable circumstance
moving in the shadows of the night.
3 a.m., is dark and silent,
a sense of calm settles over the land,
seemingly for everyone but you.
You sit and listen to the labored breathing of your dying cat
as you watch the clock slowly tick time until the holidays are over
and your vet can perform a mercy.
Too weak to give you a kiss
he tilts his head for another kiss on the head
and purrs as he rests his frail body on the cool living room floor
There is no one to lend a shoulder to lean your head upon in these desolate hours
the cold windows, with edges touched by frost
provide no warmth, no comfort from the impending demise.
The sweet sound of silence you are accustomed to no longer soothes the soul
as the scythe of death slowly, silently sways in the distance,
awaiting its moment to snuff the remaining graceful embers of feline life.