Feline's Sonnet
Out of place within his own life,
A spirit not kindred he is trapped.
Upon the couch where he napped.
Knowing not any pain or strife,
Waiting for scraps from my knife,
Begging for tidbits he’s adapt.
My window sill he has capped.
Constantly plaguing my humble wife.
Imploring attention from any hand,
A dog within a feline’s fur
Never acting the least bit tat
Perhaps at time he wish he were
Crowning our house with his brand
He is Bo the wonder cat
Italian Sonnet
By JToddUnderhill
© 2008 JToddUnderhill
(All rights reserved)
| |