and don't really think of it as a children's poem.
On highway 33 in the town of Trinity,
Under a stand of cottonwoods,
Lived an old, old woman
In a trailer almost as old as she.
Still lively, though wrinkled and bent,
Living frugally, counting every penny spent.
She ate one meal a day at the Likely Cafe.
Sunday she had bacon on toast,
Monday - apple pie a la mode,
Tuesday - thick bean soup,
Wednesday - fried tomatoes,
Thursday - a tuna sandwich,
Friday was peanut butter,
And Saturday - scrambled eggs.
Her biggist expense was canned milk and kibble for her 22 cats.
There was Felix and Fanny who came as a pair,
Sweet Pea, Sonny, Sam and Sinclair,
And of course, Trixie and Tom who had litters galore,
The first was Edna, Ethel, Earl and Egor,
Most recent were Bella, Beatty, Beau, and Bill
And I almost forgot Walker and Will.
The last four appeared at her door.
She named them Alice, Diana, Raymond and Thor.
She loved each one of the 22 dearly;
Knew each and every personality clearly.
She petted whomever, whenever they wanted.
Purring was often so loud at her trailer
It bothered her nearest grumpy old neighbor.
Though poor in the usual sense
Of having few dollars and cents,
The cat lady of Trinity, Out there on highway 33,
In her trailer under the cottonwood tree,
Says she's as happy as you or me.
I don't think it follows the rules of poetry or writing but I still love it. It flowed out of me when I was being driven by my friend Dioney from Flagstaff up to Redmond OR after I'd fallen on the ice at a motel and she had come to rescue me. We stopped somewhere at a little restaurant called The Likely Cafe and down the street was a mobile home with some cats in the yard. My imagination took it from there.
