My cat cries 
In the morning,
The afternoon,
And the night.

It is a mournful cry,
A happy sigh,
And an angry yelp.

She cries when i am gone,
When i am near,
And when im hiding in my room.

Then i wonder, if she can meow,
Why can she not speak?

Oh, how i wish she could talk.
I imagine she would have a Russian accent,
And can't pronounce her T's.

But no, she cannot say a word,
Though always longs to be heard.

So now, every time i hear her cry

And looks with those cat eyes, 
At me.
I just extend my hand ,
Pat her head.

I understand.