A friend picks up stray cats,
Carry them home, washes, caressing, feeding.
They're in his apartment take root:
Any suitable box, pad, scoop,
Of course, already occupied, left
This corner where they would not be living hell.
My friend says they save from death.
I silently turn skepticism nod Rocks.
He spends all the money on food and medication for cats,
And I'm surprised he did not even eaten.
It gives passers kittens, friends, neighbors.
I also lectured some lame,
With ragged ears and golden eyes,
Then still fit in the palm of ...
I, by the way, caring son and honorary donor,
I honestly am working, I do not drink, return loans.
But all these valuable qualities are useless,
They do not go to offset, are worthless,
When the windows at night for someone moaning
And singing is heard whistling blade wires,
When the ceiling is lowered, bottomless darkness,
And death flows into drains, seeping into the cracks,
When she sits down on the edge of the bed
And stroking my cheek with an ice hand,
All body brings to the palate language soldered,
I looked into her eyes, I can not look away.
My cat Cripple fit, falls next.
She retreats.
© Dana Sideros 2009
Photos in the preview: Inna Mian
via
www.adme.ru/contest/photo2014/works/sweet/283210