Every Time I'm Out About Town
She walks restlessly up and down,
Every time I'm out about town.
And refuses to even go to bed,
Just sits and waits up instead.
And when I finally do come back,
I know I'm going to get some flack.
As soon as I open that front door,
She'll let me know what she has in store.
All day long she had been thinking and debating,
How to make me pay for keeping her waiting.
Her eyes will bore down on me like laser beams,
Her pleasant tones will turn to cries and screams.
She'll walk past me and never glance at me the same.
I'd call to her but she'll pretend that's not her name.
I'll try my best to make it up to her with trinkets and treats,
But once my cat gets angry... oh my poor bedsheets.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (Every Time I'm Out About Town by Elena Plotkin )
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(13 September 1916 – 23 November 1990)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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