They will not go quietly,
            The cats who've shared our lives.
            In subtle ways they let us know
            Their spirit still survives.
            Old habits still make us think
            We hear a meow at the door.
            Or step back when we drop
            A tasty morsel on the floor.
            Our feet still go around the place
            The food dish used to be,
            And, sometimes, coming home at night,
            We miss them terribly.
            And although time may bring new friends
            And a new food dish to fill,
            That one place in our hearts
            Belongs to them . . . and always will.

Linda Barnes

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