I let my cat in the morn,
keeping some milk aside.
O Promise me, you will not be
another Schrodinger's cat?
I cried,
though, it said nothing to that.

I left the cardboard open,
as I went about my day,
It walked into the box,
and closed the lid,
and stayed inside all day.

Now, I wonder how it is,
is it alive or is it dead?
O Is it hungry or is it fed?

I cannot open that box to find,
even if you did remind,
The question that I am afraid,
and one that does not seem to fade,
Did I really have a cat,
Or, did I just imagine that?

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