When Taffy Was My Cat

When Taffy was my cat
He never got that fat:
He always a bag of bones,
Yeah, Taffy was my cat.

We lived aside a swamp,
In not a lot of pomp,
So I collected shells and stones,
I mean — it was a swamp.

They taught me to be good,
But I left when I could:
I headed for some cooler zones,
Outside our swampy-hood —

Then Taffy up and died.
I sat alone, and cried.
He’d gone to live with Davy Jones,
Off on the other side —

I sometimes sit a song,
And think out loud, “He’s gone,
But all he missed was ‘Game of Thrones’
In not living this long.”

When Taffy was my cat
He never got that fat:
He always a bag of bones,
And that, my friend,
Is that

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

3 thoughts on “When Taffy Was My Cat”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s