No sleep will come to me tonight
although this human’s dog-tired mind
is weary from past days’ turmoil
and never-ever ending grind.

Where is my restful sans souci?
Where is the grotto that still gleams
in sapphire gem stone’s royal blue
imbedded in my Capri dreams?

Repose does not come tonight--though
not a cricket chirps below the window’s
sill to keep me from my well-earned
slumber. Moonlight’s glow

reflects in two pair blinking orbs
belonging to my silly cats
that are about to caterwaul--
I’m speaking of my feline brats.

Now wide awake, I curse and scold,
but they are hungry, they want chow;
“Go back to sleep,” I cry out loud,
but they talk back, “Meow, meow,

meow, meow, meow, meow;
We want turkey, salmon, chicken;
meow, meow, meow, meow,
ocean fish will keep us licking . . . .”
(Shut up! that’s more than I’ll allow.)

Darn! Repose does not come tonight
(“Shut up! it’s not yet three o’clock”).
They look at me with squinting eyes
and fuss and wail and cry and balk.
 

My eyes detect those two cats’ bribe--
a dead mouse placed quite near my feet;
that gets me up in greatest haste--
no time to thank them for that treat.

I hit that brass bed’s frame, stub my toe,
then skip and dance and join those brats
in caterwauling, “Ouch! *%$@,
darn, oh darn, darn those noisy cats!”