The Kitten stretches for a hopeless sleep,
Pillows packed about her,
A marshmallow amidst mugs of warm cider.
The air is still, much too still,
The stillness seemed to make even the pictures
Seem vibrant with life and energy.
Flowers slouched duly on the bookshelf, pitiful,
And another vase on the desk, dried.
The ambience held a thick scent to it,
Tasteless here, suffocating there,
Really a miracle the flowers could breathe in it.
The Kitten arises well rested,
Breaking the imaginary sound and upturning the stillness.
She walks off to join her sisters,
And the quiet scene resets
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