> Poetry
> Wedding
> Graduation

The Cat
At home she's in her lair,
She sleeps on the mat,
Or sometimes in a chair,
'Cause she's a Cat.

But out at night,
Her eyes glowing green
in the moonlight,
That's when she's mean.

You might find dead mice,
Or even a rat,
But she'll sleep, soft and nice,
'Cause she's a Cat.

But when all are in bed,
She's out on the prowl
Feeling ill fed
Like a night owl.

There's ne'er a trace left
Of what's made her fat,
She's but a well-planned theft,
'Cause she's a Cat.


9th October, 1990