The smell of fresh pie bake at the window Hmm!
What a smell worth to swallow
Up from the ground and unto the curtain trying to hold on and making certain
That fresh sweet smell doesn’t go to waste
Swing to and fort in order to get a grip
Bam! That hurts as-
Pots, pans and buckets flying up and down in the air making magic
Yet I can’t let go as the smell wrestle with my tiny nose
Down I landed on the counter trying to make a pose
“At last I made it”.
As the smell of fruits it my nose I sprang towards it in order to get a tip
But no, Spam! Into the head and through the window
The baker took it as she smells her product and went back in. Then I took a spin and this time had good landing in
In too its body I place my paws as I taste it steams came through my jaws Hmm! That the taste of pie
This thing is worth to die
As I felt a kick and puked it Hmm! That’s the work of a cat on the kitchen window
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I liked this one cause you made it a little bit real. I say this because when you say pie the thought of something sweet can to mind. And most food are worth dying for if they are as tasty as pie.i liked the cat because usally it is an person