Presence

Steady, there's no movement.
He is calm.
Breathing, normal.
The room does not speak;
It simply listens
While we all take note
Of an amazing creature
Made not like any other.

His whiskers are at attention--
There's no denying his
Approval of our every word.
Mystic thing, soothing being,
Who has his heart on his sleeve?
He does. He wears it well, too.
We watch him as it bleeds
Into our hands,
We catch his love.

Presence

The day we put him
To rest, my Mother
Said a few words.
"He came. He conquered.
We all fell in love with him.
And now, he's gone. But,
His presence will be with us
Forever."

We all cried. I'm still
Crying.