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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Comments about this poem (Every Time I'm Out About Town by Elena Plotkin )
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