Tiny Paws, Tiny Claws

Tiny paws, reaching up so high

Grasping my fingers with tiny claws

Little mewls, screwed-shut eyes

The mother's patience made me pause

Watching her, kind as can be

Nursing her little ones, softly purring

How can she do it? She knows the key

To slip away without them stirring

I see how fragile life becomes

From birth to kitten, to old as dust

And I feel tears stunt my lungs

For in this mother I put my trust

These little kits so soft and warm

Reflect myself, and the child inside

So small and vulnerable, no words could form

I pat mom's head with a quiet sigh

Inside of everyone is tiny paws

Reaching up with tiny claws

Searching for purpose in life's rough seams

And grasping onto their wildest dreams

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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