Krystin

Leaves are left perfectally still,

a silent figure makes it's way

toward her pray, not a sound,

not a word, then without warning,

without doubt, she pounces

upon the tiny sprout, the allusive

pray, found, caught, and captured,

such a pray for my little kitty,

such a feet she does accieve,

for practice makes perfect and

my little kitty can not be matched,

she has the moves, she has the

past, and even though she can

sneak and pounce, she still has

the heart, to stop her paw for a pat,

upon the head of her bunny friend,

for kitties and bunnies are not often

friends, but she breaks the mold on

common or trends, for my little kitty

you see, hasn't been little for some

time or would you believe she's grown

more then my mind does believe,

running off to her adventures, into the

big world, fulfilling her dreams, now

I sit her and think of all the times my

kitty was here, and miss her dearly,

wishing she were here, but I know

deep down in my heart, that my kitty

will return to me, and live does go on,

but oh do I miss her, with her little paws.