The black cat
Slinks down into the sewer,
Eager to escape
The tense curiosity,
Of the little onlooker,
Who has been warned
By every well wisher,
To avoid every cat,
But particularly any that’s black –
And to stay clear of every path,
That a black cat
Sets foot on.

The little girl,
With wonder in her eyes
And in her tiny heart,
Goes on,
Looking back
Every now and then,
To see if the cat
Pops out of the hole,
Which seemingly stole
Its very being,
As it went in.

What is so bad
About any cat?
And specifically,
About a cat
That is black?
She wonders,
Why is it bad?
And if it is,
Was it born so?
Why would anyone choose,
To stand to lose,
The abundance
That life has to offer,
By being born
As a bad,
Black cat?

Would it not,
If it had any say,
Choose any day,
To be born
White, orange or grey?
Any shade,
But the deepest black,
To keep at bay
The hurtful stares,
Sticks, stones,
And much more
From angry humans,
Trying to go about their day,
With as little
Of bad luck
As they possibly may?

But whose fault is it
That some cats
Are just born black?

Image Credit: Photo by Skitter Photo on StockSnap