Simba was my best cat.
Everyday he laid on my mat.
He was brownish-gold,
We didn’t want him sold.
He was so small…
Not very tall.
Simba grew old and fat,
Everyday still on my mat.
I liked him old and young.
I liked his rough tongue.
Simba was a good cat.
Although he brought rats onto my mat.
He liked to play,
But now he has gone away.
I miss him a lot,
I’m glad we had him,
Rather than not.
Written by Louis van Niekerk on 03 August 2009
LvN Poetry 