The cat always liked to go into
The girl’s room.
She often left the door open on “accident”,
And the cat would readily jump through.

That would remind the girl,
Most of the time on her phone,
To close her bedroom door,
A barrier between her and her family.

However, whenever she closed the door,
The cat, who patiently waited for the time came
When it could jump into the room,
Would run back to the closed door, get on its back legs,

And scratch right below the handle,
Trying so very hard to reach it.
The girl looked away from her phone and at the cat,
Who just meowed in response and looked back and forth between

Her and the door.
So she groaned, reluctantly got up, and
Opened the door.
The cat would run out and smile back from the outside, only for

The girl to close the door on it.
Once the girl flopped back onto her bed,
She would hear scratching at the door again
(As well as her annoying brother playing games with his friends

And her baby sister’s cartoons from the living room).
So, she got up and opened the door once more.
But this time, the cat wouldn’t enter,
Would just stare back, meow, and wait for the girl to come out

And play.

She closed the door on the cheerful cat,
Groaned as she flopped once more onto her bed.
She went back to the world of her phone,
Ignoring the world beyond the door.

And that’s how many nights went at that household:
The dad and the mom playing with the baby in the living room,
The brother playing games with his friends,
The eldest child, the bright screen of her phone enveloping her sight.

And the cat, trying to connect them all together.