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they’ve brought in a tree. I know they can’t climb, so it must be for me. It stands in a pot of earth mixed with clay, yet when I start digging, they chase me away! They’ve hung shiny streamers from each prickly branch. They’ll make a fine plaything, when I get the chance. They’re wrapping their presents, the paper is nice. The contents are strange though, no birds, fish or mice. I played with the streamers and a round shiny ball; then to my horror, the tree starts to fall! |
they put me outside. What to do next... I can’t yet decide. Something is cooking, what a wonderful smell! But will they share it? You never can tell. I jump on the counter, and sniff at the plate. The humans then move it; alas, I’m too late! I’m tired of Christmas, it’s no fun, I say. They have all these things but they won’t let me play. Christmas morning is here. Oh, what a great time. I’ve a new catnip mouse and the turkey’s divine! |
Poem copyright © 2001 - 2002 Rose Moss
(Used with permission)
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