I’ve written another poem about a cat.
I promised myself I wouldn’t do that,
But this one leapt upon the page
and as usual took centre stage;
the other poems took off and scurried,
looking set upon and rather harried.
There was one about a lecherous leer —
that would have to wait another year;
and one about my old dog Trigger
who humped his mattress with manly vigour.
So may things about which to write
but this cat poem purrs with delight.