I'm writing a poem,
A dedication to my cat,
Who's extremely proud
& getting fat.
She's black & she's white,
With pink padded paw's
& when we cuddle,
She'll knead with her claws.
No longer a kitten,
But a feline of leisure,
Has funny odd moment's,
In my memory I treasure.
Awakes me at morning,
Sitting on the flat of my back,
Meowing politely for breakfast,
A nice fishy snack.
A once nimble creature,
With really good balance,
Approaching her ninth life,
No longer swings
on the valance.
Sometimes she's hidden
in the oddest of places,
It's just natural cat instinct
to be so curious,
Then I'll playfully tease her
till she swishes her tail,
making her incessantly furious.
Irritations forgotten,
she'll sit on my lap.
I tickle her chin
and scratch her back,
To the soft mellow sound
of her purring.
