The Geneticist's Tale
"Feed them grains or they'll flutter away... remember the sound of the orange whistle."
A slip in the tide of time, where every cat by the moonlight speaks in riddled tales...
They say they never opened the door... yet, I see it ajar in the twilight's eye.
The crystalline mermaids in matching fur cloaks, smiles like old toms.
The whispers shift like autumn fog, curling around dreams of cobalt seas.
"Have you named the constellation yet, or does it still wander blind?" the tabby questions.