My Old Cat

My old cat,
was not always that,
I remember a kitten so nice.
She would dance by the moon,
To her favourite tune,
Which of course is 3 blind mice.

Her favourite dish,
Is micecream and fish,
Followed by lashings of milk.
Then she’ll purr and she’ll fawn,
Take a stretch and a yawn,
Then a nap on my cushions of silk.

If she fancies a jog,
She will meow at a dog,
And tease it until she is bored.
Climb a tree to the top,
Hear the tweets all stop?
Then home to be spoiled and adored.

Now she wants to retire
So just sits by the fire
And doesn’t move far from the house
Her life is now slow
But there’s eight more to go
She’ll be back and be chasing that mouse.

JP 1 July 2012

3 responses to “My Old Cat

  1. Lovely word play that catches each supple movement of very “catty” cat!!! Reminds me of Elliot”s lovely prose for marvelous kittens.

  2. Nice poem my furriend! 🙂

  3. Lovely cat. It’s a pity what happened to the birds and mice

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