Daily Life.

A black beauty that is impure and rare, 

Inhabit boxes that came out of nowhere. 

Wakes up at seven-twenty precise 

To cry as if it was her way to entice. 

For food, for a touch on her skin 

Or maybe for a little rub on her chin. 

Done with that she goes, 

And find a spot to lick her toes. 

But then run and hides in a fright, 

As she hear a strange sound on her right. 

The sound comes closer and closer, 

Lift her face to see it was just her owner.

Ah everything will be fine

as I am by her side and she is by mines.

Her presence represents my daily joy 

and my motivation for survive.