The Kitten
| July 3rd, 2009 by thehaydenFuzzy soft
frisky bundle,
ever ready
hunts for trouble.
Climbing crawling
in grass sprawling,
cotton soft
won’t stop rolling.
Scratching biting
on my fingers,
pouncing bouncing
on them lingers.
Lapping sucking
the bowl of milk,
Then stroking licking
it’s fur of silk.
Quietly slipping
disappears in sleep,
the cozy kitten
isn’t her day sweet?
-END-
Reflection
This poem is about my lil’ sister’s first kitten and some of the entertaining moments shared with it.
Very intriguing article, something identical to this occurred to me not too long ago and it pretty much played out similarly to how you explain it.