My Obese Prowler

 

 

There he goes my
obese prowler

 

 

Stealthily stalking
his prey.

 

 

Eyes of green, nose
of black;

 

 

None dare stand in
his way.

 

 

 

 

 

Like the sly and
cunning snake

 

 

He moves,
slithering through the grass.

 

 

He almost makes me
think of one

 

 

Except snakes are
not so fat.

 

 

 

 

 

These paws of
might, these intimidating whiskers

 

 

Consternate
nature’s prey.

 

 

On he goes, never
slows;

 

 

His ferocious bulk
a’ sway.

 

 

 

 

 

So goes he, beware
all ye!

 

 

Never meddle with
this beast!

 

 

So round is he,
it’s a sight to see!

 

 

Must be nineteen
pounds, at least.

 

 

 

 

 

Crouches down,
never a sound,

 

 

A runner at
marathon.

 

 

Tail swish, ears
twitch, POW!

 

 

And then he’s gone.