Not quite as young as I was once,
Some Sunday traditions with Sammy remain,
Instead of sleeping all morning to recover from the night,
It’s cold pizza for breakfast and watching the rain.
If I look a little weathered,
Or perhaps a wee bit scruffy.
Just had a total knee replacement,
And don’t feel as cute as Buffy.
Sammy has her routines,
Is rather set in her ways.
Wonder how she will feel,
With me home for three days?
Sammy is my little friend,
With a fuzzy-wuzzy kitten head.
But she’s been getting kind of lazy,
And hasn’t made her side of the bed.
If Sammy rubbed against a lamp,
And a genie gave her wishes.
I wonder just how many of those,
Wishes would have to do with fishes?
Woke up rather early today,
With Sammy sleeping on my knee.
Told her we had to rise and shine,
To write some mediocre poetry.
Sammy doesn’t worry about,
Kitty litter, food or catching the chills.
‘Cause she has a big, fat Daddy,
Paying all her bills.
Tomatoes are red,
Bacon is brown.
Sammy and I will nap,
While the rain comes down.