The Writers' Circle

Supine in bed, I listened
to rain dripping outside.
While dewy flowers glistened,
I closed my eyes and cried.

Hearing a "meow", I stop.
Looking, I see him move.
It's Hank, furry as a mop,
purring with love to prove.

Wiping teardrops dry in his thick mane,
I scratch him behind the ears.
Close to my side he's content again. 
I smile, forgetting my tears.