Hope and the Kitchen Sink

My cat always sits by the sink.

And she narrows her eyes and her tail starts to flicker.

She draws in her claws. She waits. And then quicker

Than blinking she pounces, with scimitar swipes

At each drip as it drops from the mouth of the pipe.

Then she curls up to wait. Does she secretly wish

That the tap was a stream that was teeming with fish?

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