Its Dark out Laying alone in a quiet house, Its dark, its lonely. Looking through a gap between the rough blue and white curtains, The moon glistens, shining like a lamp through the mist. With vision blurring, the moon shimmers. As the soft smooth flesh of eye lids close, The tears begin fall. Slowly at first, running down soft furred cheeks rolling down and soaking into the fabric of the shirt currently worn. Harder and faster the tears do fall, Hitting the pillow or mattress upon which, The body of the tigress lays. The tail so long and so soft, Curls around the form of the weeping tigress, as she tries to comfort herself. No words can describe how she feels, what is spinning through her mind. One thing is clear, Lonely, sad wild cat. In the dark room of the quiet house The tigress weeps, For reasons, Untold. Milly Snowpaws