Midnight's Poetry

With Illustrations Provided by My Human Mom

Me

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovelier than me.

I, whose eagle eyes do shine
to make my humans toe the line.

I, whose dainty paws do tread
From couch to kitchen in their stead.

I, with whiskers long and bold
Sometimes forward, sometimes fold.

My fur so black, a perfect shade
The best coat color ever made.

Poems were made by fools like thee
But only God makes one like me.

by Midnight, with apologies to Joyce Kilmer.

The Hunting Time

by Midnight

with thanks to Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the light is beginning to climb,
Comes a pause in the rest of the night
That's known as the hunting time.

I hear out the window before me
The patter of tiny feet
The sound of a squeak and a rustle
Remind me that I want to eat.

From my perch I think of the people
Fast asleep in another room
How can they rest when I'm hungry ?
Into the bedroom I zoom.

"Get up and feed me !" I meow.
The woman mutters a word or two.
"Get up and feed me !" I meow.
The man answers by tossing a shoe.

Quietly, I ponder the problem
How to get something to eat ?
Shall I continue to meow loudly ?
Shall I stick my cold nose on their feet ?

On the broad bed before me
The man snores with his mouth open wide.
I walk smartly and gingerly to it,
And stick a quick forepaw inside.

In ten minutes, I am eating
He got up when I did it twice.
I caught a wonderful can of tuna
Much better than any mice.