# The Empty Box
> A poem for Jak the cat.
the empty box i built for you,
i saved 12 hours’ worth of wages
to watch you drift to sleep,
and each night, you made sure it wasn’t wasted.
such a nice box. if i could
afford another 28 hours,
i’d build you one of black cherry wood,
and carve its sides with flowers.
it doesn’t matter if you scratch it
or drool on it after a good night’s sleep.
the point is you’d lie back
and kick the air with your feet.
now the empty box rests in the corner,
without a single patch of fur.
those 12 hours weren’t wasted,
i wish i’d spent 28 more.