FLAT BLACK CAT

FLAT BLACK CAT

I drove by in a trice,

with the usual tailgater

up my arse.

But I saw you,

lying there,

flattened, silent.

Covered in dust,

from days by the verge

forgotten, lost, but sadly dead.

I wondered if,

you belonged to someone,

did you sometimes sit on a knee

and offer a gleeful chin,

to be stroked and caressed

or were you the original TC,

a knight of the road,

a feral, living rough,

but still welcoming kindness?

Whatever the answer is,

I wish that I knew,

so that I could rest

and not be sad,

about the little cat,

at the side of the road.