The sun shines on the window,
Pounding on the curtains to be let in. Begging
No one hears.

Dirty clothes are piled on the floor, a film of dust covers the walls and shelves long untouched.
An alien landscape
Sleeping in darkness.

Eyes open,
And close again. Maybe they’ll open again in an hour.
Maybe the door will be opened and the darkness will have a blinding glimpse of light,
Screaming and cower in a safe,
But ugly,
Dark corner.
Alone.

The sun sets, but nothing is the same.

The sun rises again, today over a white blanket.
Small claws scratch at the curtains and the door. A whine of light trapped in shadow begins to fill the air.
Grey eyes open,
Tiredly meeting happy black ones.
A pink tongue cajoles a smile onto the sad face.
The door opens, light happily spilling out,
And howling every time it’s left alone.

White paws dig all day
Rolling in the white feathers fallen from the sky.
The clouds begin to cry,
In joy or sadness.
Who can say?
A white tail wags happily,
Refusing to go in.

They wait under the tree,
Watching tears bounce off of the brown leaves,
Filling small dips in the ground.
Keeping each other warm.

The night blinks five times,
And then blinks again,
Surprised that the sun told her that
That morning
The curtains were open,
The room bright,
Resembling something from long ago.
And in the distance,
Laughter.