Tabby    

You played upon the driveway
You tapped the leaves' dry skin
Your brother blocked the cat flap
To stop you bounding in.

I finished with the paper
Its cartoons and its cares.
I walked in the bright hallway.
You sat upon the stairs. 

How had you crossed the kitchen?
When had the flap slammed flat?
You stared at me unblinking.
Death is a quiet cat.  

Alison Brackenbury

If you've any comments on her poem, Alison Brackenbury would be pleased to hear from you.