This is totally impossible to do. Well, not quite because I just did it but not very well..er badly. I asked myself, “what could I write about on Christmas Day when I woke up?”. It had to be a bit of fun and it had to be bright and white. Ah, I’ll write a poem….
Five minutes later….Oh no, I won’t write a poem I’ll do something else. As you probably know, writing a poem, even a bad one, is not easy.
I set myself a maximum of about 15 lines to limit the amount pain I had to endure in writing it 😉
She looked lazily out of the frosty window
It was a beautiful, crisp and even scene
She looked for a glimmer of bird activity
That would brighten up her moody mien
“Alaska” was a chubby white purebred mix
She was proud to be a rescue cat
Who was the best at doing tremendous tricks
“She’s like a dog” her humans kept saying
“No, I’m not” Alaska thought
As she lay quietly on her warmed up mat
I’m just a cat, a very good cat
Who likes the snow at Christmas time
Who likes to play when the weather is fine
To be out, to mess up that crisply even scene
My human will take a picture; well, he might
I look great in the snow. It’s white on white
In good old England, this morning, as I wrote the poem, there was thunder and lighting. It has been raining most of the night. Not a glimmer of a hope for even a single flake of the white stuff….Happy Christmas.
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