My kitty loved leaping on anything high,
Like lightning, all through the house, she would fly.
She’d climb all the curtains, using her claws.
She’d nuzzle me, kneading my lap with her paws...
But kitty’s grown old, she is sprightly no more.
She struggles to jump from a chair to the floor.
Her eyes are duller, her face has gone grey,
But Grandma tells me this change is okay.
So hush when she’s sleeping and hug her with care.
When she wants to relax she can rock in the chair.
Like Grandma, she’s reached her senior years,
But she’s still loving life, so I’m saving my tears.
I know growing old doesn’t mean being sad,
And Grandma and kitty are friends, and I’m glad.