Can't you see - I'm trying to write ...

Just a few words with some insight

And there you sit on floor next to chair

With steady paw on my hand and a stare



You know I spoil you and feed you well

And yet, it's never enough, you try to tell

So you make it impossible for me to work 

Trying to keep flowing all of the perks ...



So I try and type with just the one hand

Making errors bounce like rubber bands

Not wanting to admonish you at all ...

But knowing full well I feel like a fool



Finally, I brush you away and you go and sulk

Tail between your legs, and chin in a tuck ...

Circling around on a bare patch of floor ...

Then collapsing in it, sprawling, all the more



Lifting your head up one last time to stare

Then dropping it down, panting for some air

Finally, you get out one last really low noise ...

And I know from this you're done being annoyed



So I go back to my typing, now with two hands

And the words flow, as my mind understands

You gave me an idea to fill mind with thought

Better than anything at all which is store-bought 



- Tristram



(c) Christopher W. Thomas

12:30pm Thurs. Aug. 13th, 1998