Words are hard -
You said 'death' like you knew, your little tongue made noises like you understood,
but, honey baby, you didn't.
Wrapped in a ragged sheet, the cat's blood turned to rust
but not before you asked to see her.
That little head moved just a bit in the re-adjusting-
her shroud let light in one final time, and you, little baby,
cried in the yard
We say 'death' because we've learned
(or we pretend we have).
This, our legacy, will one day be yours.