The cats are shedding
major fur –
They dropp their coats
With every purr
Every time I pet, Fur flies,
Gets in my nose,
Gets in my eyes
What shall I do
With all this fur?
I must do something,
My friends concur
For the carpet now is
Not quite brown
Where cascading cats
Have wandered ‘round
And those who sit down
In my chairs,
Find their butts covered
With fine, soft hairs
When from me
Their leaves they take,
A trail of fur-bunnies
Dogs their wake
What shall I do with all this fur?
I know! Another cat I’ll make!
I’ll build it very carefully,
use up all the cat hair fully
And sculpt myself a new & grand creation
Then all I’ll need,
Oh, yes, indeed
Will be some act of godly animation
& my molded little ball of fur
will rise,
and stretch,
and start to purr
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem