It’s stormy in our neighborhood;
The rain is beating down;
The feline on the windowsill
Doesn’t hear a sound.
He sees the lightening in the sky;
He feels the thunder near;
But his silence isn’t broken,
You see, Cotton cannot hear.
He cannot here the many sounds
We hear from day to day.
He doesn’t hear the laughter
When the children are at play.
He doesn’t hear the music
That Mom plays as she cooks;
Just sits upon his favorite spot
And out the window looks.
He watches as a butterfly
Upon a flower lands,
And flies away in freedom
Right into Nature’s hands.
He yearns to go outside;
He’d be there if he could,
To chase the butterfly
And run the neighborhood.
He’d climb to meet upon the oak
The frisky little squirrel
That he’d just love to bring into
His silent, playful world.
The cat who lives next door,
Whose name is Bubba Mo,
Jumps upon the windowsill
As if to say “hello”.
He strokes his body to and fro
Across the window pane;
A soft “meow” and noses touch;
His visits aren’t in vain.
Bubba loves his silent friend,
That blue-eyed cotton ball;
He knows it makes him happy
When Bubba pays a call.
A wall of total of silence
Can’t keep these friends apart,
Good friends can communicate
Directly from the heart.
When Cotton’s called to slumber,
His dreams take him away
To the world of hearing sounds
He misses everyday.
He hears the crickets chirping,
And the scurry of a mouse,
The laughter of the children
As they play around the house.
He hears Mom humming melodies
As she cooks his favorite fish,
And hears his own contented purr
As she puts some in his dish.
He hears the Whippoorwill,
The hoots of Mr. Owl,
Bubba Mo’s “hello” meow,
And Sparky’s bark and growl.
His ears twitch as he sleeps;
Upon my lap he’s curled;
I’m glad that I’m a part
Of Cotton’s silent world!
Katrina Estes Hill
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