Sounds a hundred year old bed pot makes,
Crash,
Chink,
Blink,
In the kitchen,
A little hand me down table sits,
Brassing my crappy unclosable cupboard closed,
Upon a shelf underneath,
Rest a bed pot,
Mom bought at a sale long time ago,
My youngest cat loathes it,
So every now and then,
From out of the kitchen I hear,
Crash,
Clinck
Chink,
Blink,
Yelling will not stop the climbing upon,
Still I yell ‘Stop that!’
At least I then feel content.
Val's Whitewolf Books 