A Tasty Treat

A Tasty Treat

The smell of something cooking

reaches to my sleeping nose,

dragging me from curled up heap

in which I’d had a doze.

I slink along the hallway,

curl my way around the door

and tiptoe right across the room

for I’m about to score

the most delicious morsel

when it’s put upon a plate.

I need to get a move on

or else I’ll be too late.

This aroma is so tempting,

it makes me lick my lips,

a shiver of expectancy

from tail to my ear tips.

You have failed to see me

as I leap up on a chair;

I need to practise patience

though I know you will not share.

I’ll wait until your back is turned

and then I’ll make my move,

a need for a bit of rapid speed

which I can make so smooth.

And then I will be feasting

on the dinner that you’ve cooked;

but please don’t you get angry

for with smells my nose was hooked.