I have this cat that I call "Fly,"
I'm almost positive he could,
He leaps up,oh,so very high,
As a fly....this cat is good.
His feline form he often flings,
To sudden death it's certain,
Like a Kamikaze without wings,
then he's clinging on my curtains.
He leaps again, first here, then there,
As a cat he's no ones equal,
Then he disappears into thin air,
in his Amelia Earhart sequel,.
He later crouches in the grass,
and lets Mother Earth's form hug him,
As he snatches flies with nimble paws,
making meals of things that bug him.
If cats could talk I'm sure he'd say,
That he's due some recognition,
for saving us from pesky flies,
his only competition.
( . . )
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