The rain's whispers tapped the window pane, a nocturnal sonnet in the quiet night. The fireplace's glow cradled you in the bed your keeper bestowed.

Rain, a silent poet, no mews nor growls, yet your ears perked to the serenade. Through the window, a stray, obsidian-furred, beckoned your attention.

With elegance, you rose; your owner, captivated by a movie. Approaching the window, atop a crate, you met the gaze of the wandering feline. The call of a street cat in the nocturnal choir.