A Hat to My Cat

A little one sleeps in a corner

A Hat to My Cat Image courtesy of thismakesmylife

A Hat to My Cat
Image courtesy of thismakesmylife

trying to pass the time

his fuzzy hair is the brownest

but he’s not mine.

He’s  the imaginary pet

of Wilford Lacey.

Our local cranky cuckoo vet.

He was Mrs Ann’s dey,

but as soon as he had money

he bought and he left;

his older job in that house,

and he showed his fey.

Because he tried to be the best

but the cat caught it

and now Mr Lacey is a vet

and he is the best.

The best vet, the best crazy head,

he can see that cat

when nobody else can, they dread,

they can’t even pat

no because Jeremy, the cat

isn’t really exist

it’s the others haven’t fancy,

or enough vision,

so Wilford became the crazy

from Nolkfordfision,

the big town without invention,

without inspiration,

without imagination.

For that, Mr Lacey accepted be

the crazy fellow,

but he didn’t want his cat no see

for his playfellows.

He bought a hat for his cat then,

“A hat to my cat”

said the vet with a big bellow

“All cats should wear hats”.

And he was right because you can see

not better the fake cats

if not the real ones also are clear,

if not ask Alice.

Now, everybody can see

Jeremy, the cat

lying in the better corner,

and you can even sit

with him and play for a while

but only some see

because if you haven’t vision

or inspiration,

or imagination,

or invention,

you couldn’t and only see the hat

without the cat,

like something weird suspended.

‘Cause the secret,

it is not in to have a magic key

that solve your vision

it’s all about to think a bit

with  inspiration,

with imagination,

with all the invention.


A crazy poem for little kids.

Esther Lopez Moreno