Sour has its power, true,
But sweetness fills its cheeks with you.
When sweet goes out to eat, dessert
Is you! I hope it doesn’t hurt
Too much to have your face licked off.
Your fault–you filled my sweetness trough
With floating, chunky lumps o’ you!
Resisting it’s too hard to do,
Especially when I don’t try.
I’m just a sweetness-loving guy.

There, Kitty-Kitty!

The cat on my chest doesn’t want to be here;
She’s drawn to the two danderphobes sitting near.
On most days she’s fine pinking veins in my eyes
But she sees that my sneezes pale next to these guys’.
How does she come by this knowledge? No clue.
But believe it: If you hate my cat, she loves you.

The Tansy Verses: No. 15

Tuesday’s child, so I’ve heard,
Is full of grace, so it’s absurd
To see you mope and hang your head
Like woeful Wednesday’s child instead.
You’re fair of face–a Monday trait–
But you were born a day too late
To earn that appellation. So
Is that how come you’re full of woe?
November 4th, when you were whelped,
Was Tuesday, so it can’t be helped:
The die is cast, so goodness gracious,
Reach down deep in your capacious
Pocket for a Brownie smile.
Let’s wipe out that frown awhile!
Sure, it’s Thursday, and I’m leaving
Friday next, but if you’re grieving
Starting now you’re going to get
Cheek wrinkles from eight days of wet.
Cheer up! You won’t regret you did:
You’re third from top of my stack, kid.