The kitten in the cardboard box
Voiced aloud his fear,
"It's dark inside this horrid place,
"Please let me out of here!"

His little paws were red and sore
With struggling to regain
The Freedom he had lost that morn,
And now he cried in vain.

At last a human voice he heard,
Felt hope within him rise,
With frantic claws he fought his box,
Unheeded were his cries.

Darkness came and silence fell,
The kitten, in despair,
Lay down and slept till morning came,
When hunger woke him there.

But no one found his prison cell,
His cries were still unheard.
The hours came, the hours went,
It seemed that no-one cared.

Another day had almost gone
When footsteps came his way.
He gave a desperate, feeble wail,
And heard a gruff voice say, -

"What's this?" and felt his box rise up,
The lid was opened wide,
"Good gracious." the policeman said,
When he saw what lay inside.

The kitten knew that freedom lay
Beyond his cardboard wall.
He tried to jump, but lack of strength
Resulted in his fall.

The lid was firmly closed again,
He lay in silent grief,
But soon his box was opened up
After a journey brief.

Then gentle hands uplifted him
And set him on his feet,
Smoothed his fur and calmed his fear,
And offered milk and meat.

He ate a little, drank a lot,
And sank upon the mat,
Too weak to care what happened next,
A tired little cat.

He woke to warmth and comfort -
A loving home at last,
His box a fading nightmare,
In a half-remembered past.

Louise Mowa