Between Bruises and Blooms

Some souls
don’t knock.

They arrive
covered in grease,
tucked inside an engine,
holding on
with nothing but instinct
and hope.

You were never supposed
to become ours.

Yet somehow,
before we even knew your name,
you had already found your way home.

Now you chase shadows
down the hallway,
sleep in sunbeams,
and remind me every day

that sometimes
the universe
delivers miracles
with tiny paws.