“Now he did what to you? I’ll have him know
These eyes can glare through midnight! And just who
Does he think he can hound?! I’ll have him rue
The day he held your pride as something low.
He cannot treat another creature so.
His howling bounding brawn! I’ll have him rue
The hour he sniffed you out as something new
To worry like a bone. He’s on Death Row.
My darling Pussycat! Love, hearing you,
So far off, screaming keenly, and your hiss….
Magnificent! Though far off in the fog.
I’d rather hear your sweet and dulcet mew,
So climb high and give me a cleaning kiss,
Then I’ll attend to that vile traitor dog!”
Author note
The real reason, alas, they finally had to elope, and pea green boats are even now hard to find, especially beautiful ones.
cool sonnet