Below is the poem with suggested edits:

My kittens are small,
so tiny I can hold them each in one hand:
I feed them, play with them,
watch them pounce on a toy mouse...

My kittens are a few months old.
They like walks outside and cuddles.
They eat a lot more and play.
They like to jump out and scare me.

My kittens are a year old.
Not tiny anymore,
slowly growing fat
--they love to sleep on my feet.

My kittens are now three years old
They are still energetic.
They cuddle me when I'm upset.
They catch tears in their fur...

My kittens are no longer kittens.
They are now adult cats.
They are now 6 years old.
They are slow and don't play as much.

My kittens are now 11.
They sleep most of the day.
They don't like outside anymore;
one is very slow.

My kittens are now gone.
I miss them both dearly.
One passed and the other not too long after;
they brought me fun, and friendship I will never forget.

A wonderful memorialization of your relationship to your cats. I think we all feel as the cats do ... curious when we're younger, then jaded and succumbed to the notion that "They don't like outside anymore." Wonderful poem formats you choose!

Comment 6 out of 12.

5/5
IdTakeABulletForYou

I am not a cat lover but The way you described their journey, I loved it and honestly felt for a minute that they were mine kittens.