for mym upon thanksgiving

at some late hour
in the dark
i sat a year ago
recalling fallen snow
from holidays since passed
their joys rushed by so fast
as sorrow, ever slow
then lingered to the last

the cat, meanwhile
fell asleep
oblivious to time
his life, in ways, sublime
devoid of foolish dreams
his world is as it seems
obsessed with each new climb
not thoughts of grander schemes

i felt quite jealous
of him then
appearing so content
with games he would invent
though limited in scope
they portend no false hope
of something heaven sent
on which to wait and cope

the clock ticked hours
into days
my sadness deep inside
it withered, then it died
for as the seasons change
so too we rearrange
the life we will abide
while from the past estrange

thus poor perception
was the cause
of all my jealousy
for i live the life i see
the same as does the cat
who sooner realized that
and sooner was set free
from those futures first looked at


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