MY WINDOW ON ALONE
Well, well, Mr. Cat, I bet this night is nothing
to you : gingerbread prancing catnip joys? it's
like Christmas, when the say at midnight all
the animals can talk - and do. Conversing
with one another in their animal ways. I've
never seen it, no; and I've tried. While others
waited for Santas and cookies and all that,
I waited for the animals to talk.
-
Too bad again, just another chance that's
passed me by. What's this life for anyway?
I got nothing, ever, for all the foibles I brought.
Like at an old frontier trading-post or something
of that nature, I always wanted to get a parcel
back for that which I gave. I got not anything,
ever, and nothing to save. Now, not even
the animals will talk. Why is that?
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