The end of the road

When she got old,oh why
Was she given a flat
Somewhere up near the sky
And had to leave her cat.

She got used to the lift,
Always crossing her heart.
Her flat was a real gift,
Going up was an art!

The room was always warm
And the view very wide,
But she felt so forlorn-
And she did dread the night!

Had she lived all these years
To be cast in the sky?
Did she shed all those tears
Waiting up there to die?