I was eating my third,
Serving of bean curd.
When a merry tune was heard.
Of a little hummingbird.
I peeked through the curtain.
And saw her in my garden.
Where there was a pot of Petunias.
And also some Begonias.
She perched on a flower,
Which was white with streaks of purple.
There she sang even louder,
Awaking my cat, Clover.
Clover begin to chase,
The little bird in a haste.
Despite my cries of “STOP!”
Clover ran into the pot.
She tumbled as she pounced,
And hit my pot with a bounce.
“My Petunias!” I cried,
As Clover crouched down terrified.
Clover and my Petunias.
I don’t actually have a cat named Clover. In the photo above is Apricot, the elder brother of the three cute kittens in my previous poem, My Cute Prixs. Apricot is a very nice and witty cat. Clover however is inspired by Apricot the fact that when he realise that he had done something wrong, it will crouch down– ready to be scolded.
