I’m starting with a line,
Moving on to another,
And here’s a third,
Why not a fourth?

This poem, or whatever it may be,
Really makes no sense,
But, really, don’t think me dense,
I’m about as dense as a fence.

A fence with nails in,
What a lovely fence,
I think it’s immense,
Oh beautiful fence!

I wanted to use hence,
But I have no reason,
I’m thinking of a season...

Winter, it is so lovely,
I love the cold,
The wet, but no wind.

Wind is horrible,
Especially with wet,
Wet makes this Kitty sad,
Poor sad Kitty.

A wet Kitty,
Now that ain’t pretty,
Bedraggled and shivery,
He just needs a place to dry.

Can it be on your lap?
He looks at you, his eyes a-twinkle,
Your eyes so soft and blue,
He loves those eyes.

Those eyes and those lips,
He kisses those lips,
So soft and beautiful,
He snuggles with you.

A happy Kitty,
Curled in your lap,
Never let him go,
Hold him forever.

I’m writing another line,
And another,
A penultimate one,
And finally the last.