Nikki

Nikki

Nikki was a cat in love
With every Valentine’s flower,
It simply mattered not to her
If they were yours or lovely ours

We stood them first on the table,
Then moved them high upon a shelf,
As she sniffed the perfumed fragrant wind,
Convinced that they were for herself

“Nikki, nooooo! Those flowers aren’t for you…”

And sighing, though She loved her flowers
Nikki could wait, have you no doubt,
Until our restaurant reservations,
Or went to bed, all lights turned out

Then she’d brush her face upon them,
Until she smelled the same as they,
When, no matter if in dirt or vase,
She’s toss them all over the place!

When they were spread out on the floor
She’d playful pounce and claw and bite,
Until our pretty ones, once bright,
Were draggled, ragged, quit the fight

 “Nikki, what have you done?”
  Is what I’d say, as

Sometime later I’d find her
Curled, content in sweet repose,
With a purr smiling so happily,
Smelling innocent as a rose