Simon the cat round the corner did hide,
though reflected in the mirror was he
and the human host could his black pet see
waiting for him to pass, then from his side
pranced upon his legs did Simon eyes wide;
thus the cat perceived the game as party,
though aware not hed played the games monkey,
the host laughed yet his pet hed not deride.
Simon obviously had occupied
his much time as though seeking comedy,
for naught else did his human host provide
for him to do, except watching TV,
but Simons fun would not be him denied,
thus Ive naught for which to be sorry ...

Frank G Sterle Jr


For those interested in other mostly sonnet-form cat poems and writings of mine (and, no, they're not very good, with sonnets being as by-definition constrictive as they are):