Ho, little talons,
How you rapture my soul.
You purr on my bed,
Cry at my pillow.
We share our lunch
And our supper,
Eating in our newly
Painted kitchen.

O, whisky talons,
How you capture me whole.
Without you I'm dead,
And the curtains will billow.
How can I threaten to punch
The Persian flapper?
Mewing oh so fully
Yet barely reaching.

Lo, tiny talons,
I bleed again and I'm sore.
You make me so mad,
Deflecting my mirror.
My iPod and such
Will not compare to your dapper.
Just trying to pet you, truly!
I remain alone and itching.