It makes Sammy sad when I have to go to work,
She rubs against my legs and flops down on the floor.
And just when I think she couldn’t possibly be more cute,
She turns it up, even cuter and blocking the door.
Crafting poetry on this sunny morn,
Composing rhymes sent straight from Heaven.
Spotting the date, I quietly chuckle,
For today is double-0 seven…
Member of the group since 1984,
Cliché, but surely time flies.
Went to a meeting the other month,
Since when am I one of the “Old Guys?”
Working in an industrial park,
Is a fine place to make a buck.
But although “park” is in its name,
There is never an ice cream truck.