Thomas Anthony Liddell

(York, England, UK)

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Best Poem of Thomas Anthony Liddell

Henry

A bowl of water, a bite to eat,
A walk in the park each day was a treat,
HENRY was loveable and crafty as well,
Being trapped in flesh of a cross-breed was hell. Fetching a ball or running for sticks
Meant nothing to him, they were not his tricks,
But if I left my chair with a nonchalant air,
When I looked again, HENRY was there. He never caught anything, he had no pace,
But he shrieked with joy at the start of a chase.
The rabbits obliged, popping out of their burrows,
Then ran like the wind, straight down the furrows. The cats just made for places so ...

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