Maxwell

Once upon a Christmas morning while the parents
slept a-snoring over some long forgotten neighboring
part and party fare, Maxwell led the kids a-seeking
for fine treasure, metaphorically speaking,
while he wore a tinkling bell and kids
were still in their sleep wear.

Not a kitten any longer, Maxwell purred a-feeling stronger
leading in feline perspicacity ‘round the Christmas tree.
And the kids, both Rick and Rhonda, followed since
they were so fonda Maxwell with his button face
as cute as cute could be.

Toys were what the children wanted so they crept
around undaunted, Maxwell at the point all right.
And in corners dimly lighted, Rick and Rhonda
were delighted at the Christmas treasures
that appeared before their sight.
Maxwell clawed the Christmas wrapping
(while both parents kept a-napping)
as more happy treasures came into the children’s view.
Then with children laughing gladly, Maxwell took to
running madly as if he were proverbial bolt out of the blue.

It was under tree he landed
(young male cats can be quite candid),
and a host of presents wrapped were scattered
all about.  Rick and Rhonda--treasure eyeing--found
elation, no denying, as this was a treasure hunt that caused
them both to shout.

Suddenly upstairs a-stirring, parents knew something occurring
down among the Christmas gifts, the tree and living room.
Maxwell sensed the upstairs flurry so in imp-like feline
hurry dashed beneath the Lazy Boy 
in one amazing zoom.

Still the children, eyes a-popping,
and in giggling, non-stopping, reveled
in the realm of their unbridled treasure find.
Parents came downstairs a-storming (grimaces
on faces forming), like a posse bent on finding Maxwell
who had put it all behind.


38 Lines
Writer’s Cramp
12-17-15