An Ode to Mitchell

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How mysterious can my cat be?
With her white soft fur and her gentle purr that has much more to say then I can ever comprehend.
With her claws that hold on to the things like I never can.
Or her ears that could listen to what I’ve never said,
Expressing much more than the books I’ve ever read.
Oh, I’m nothing, but an element of existence for her, and she knows it very well.
What she thinks of me, I can assume but never tell.

When she looks into my eyes for a moment brief, she seems to know the very depths of my soul.
She is royal and elegant in her ways; there is no hiding, no, not at all.
Oh, not enough words to thank providence for providing me a companion like her,
A companion with eyes that seem to watch the spirits; and I long observe her, and not stir.

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