History and the cat

History which makes each day passes  unwritten.
promises made, forgotten
sparrows fall, a faithful cat
dies in a darkened room
no more to seek a place upon my bed.
no more to stalk the mouse
or plead for tea at four;
 to leave a void pieces of the day
a jigsaw with spaces at its edges
 memories, eternal safe,
 a picture set within a wooden frame
to find when children play again
a land of make-believe
filled with that which the world cannot.
 
Make believe the world we dream
 that  place from which we learn,
 do not share enough, ashamed maybe . . .  
I do not know .