The Window Cat

From rented walls, a shifting scene,

A window opened, new and clean.

Then, a cry, a plaintive plea,

A feline form for us to see.

A call from the wild, a soft plea,

From a mother cat we named Sweetie.

Sweety came, a daily guest,

Her belly round, a life compressed.

She wandered close, seeking care,

Her gaze held a silent prayer,

Pregnant, hopeful, she found her way

To hearts that watched her day by day.

Two kittens born on a sunlit shade,

Under fate's hand their fortunes laid.

Two tiny bundles, white and grey,

On sunshade perch, they learned to play.

From terrace high, we watched them grow,

Two little lives, a gentle show.

Then came the workers, brushes keen,

Washing walls, a changing scene.

One vanished quick, a silent flight,

The white one gone into the light.

A pang of worry, sharp and deep,

Where did it go? What secrets keep?

Now Sweetie, steadfast as the tide,

Visits daily, with maternal pride.

Now Sweety calls, a softer sound,

Her grey kit, Miya, on the ground.

Below our window, small and bold,

A tiny life, a story told.

The milk we pour, a simple grace,

A moment shared, in time and space.

From rented home to rented home,

A mother's love, a kitten's roam.

Sweetie and Mia, a tale unfolds,

Of love and care, in whispers told.

We watch them now, a pair so sweet,

The missing one, a memory's heat.

A fragile bond, a window's view,

A little love, forever true.

In this dance of fate and care,

A story shared, beyond compare.