O cat,
quite fat,
quite prone there
with naught a care
but to purr,
and clean your own fur,
and cause an unconscious fusion
that warms the sofa's cushion,
what's it like,
you bird-hungry tyke-
but you do not tell.
You never tell, never
even on the verge of it.
5 comments:
I have a really fat cat.
I will recite this poem to her.
Excellent! :)
If she high-tails it out of the house after you recite the poem and never comes back, don't blame me.
But they never do that of course.
I think that's a beautiful poem!
You've certainly got a gift :)
Not a cat lover at all but this is a fine poem. :-)
Thank you Gabriella and Owen. I'm glad you both like it!
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