He feeds me,
its dry,
nearly tasteless,
and sometimes comes through undigested.
But I guess,
it's the thought that counts with these sorts of things.
So at night,
after he's tucked in,
I jump on top of him,
and sink in my claws.
But he knows,
as I purr loudly,
it's the thought that counts with these sorts of things.
And everything stays that way,
until 3 o'clock in the morning,
when I wake him up needlessly,
so he'll feed me when I'm not hungry,
and I'll get the last laugh.
Author notes
For my cat, from her perspective. "There will be other's, but never more so being than you were for me."
A contest entry
- Anti-wordbank II - Love by Metaphorist.
600 points, ended February 21, 2008, 7 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
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I loved this write from the cat's perspective, if you had kept or added the repetition " it's the thought that counts with these kind of things" it would have a complete lyrical feel for me, so sweet and full of irony that he purposefully wakes his Master at 3 a.m.!
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LOL. Clever poem. Not at all what I expected from this contest. Good flow and surprising love interest
Thanks for entering and good luck!
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haha... something i wouldn't have thought of.
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hahahahahahaha
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