I could not take a photograph of
the exquisite softness
of your fur
and so your memory is
locked in the pores of my fingertips
I could not capture
your comforting animal
smell
and so your scent is
sealed in the hairs of my nostrils
I could not record the sound of
your stealth,
interrupted only by a
discreet cat-lick,
and so your silence is
secured in the membranes of my ears
I could not forget
your beautiful trusting
eyes
and so your soul is
nestled inside my heart
Can an image or word ever capture your sheer presence?
Trouble not the heart with this question for it knows your
being
No perfect-moment capture necessary
The heart is the
witness to your true nature
Blessed is the heart
that knew you
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