Diabetic catnip
curled up in a ball
four and twenty schoolgirls
sitting on the wall
every little twinkle star
shines above for you
behind the velvet curtains
painted black and blue
In the cupboard’s second shelf
behind the Worcester sauce
snoring rather loudly
lives a tiny horse
he doesn’t have a jockey
and dreams of being free
like a wing-ed Pegasus
sat up in a tree.
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