The Dreaming Writer

There once was a cat, Who lived with a rat: Lived in a house, But never listened to the neighbour's mouse; Forever they were friends, Who tried new trends; The rat wore a hat, While the cat was too fat; She always had fish, In time for every dish; Borrowed from a Tsar, Was a big red car; The rat read a book, While the cat used to cook; Once the rat stole some cheese, At her own ease; The rat then chased the cat, But the rat died (In a rat trap),  The cat cried; And that was the end of the fat cat, And her friend, the rat.

 Down by the street, Where the birds tweet, Lived an old grandma,  With her three little kittens. First named Hope, Who gave her hope, Second, named Faith, Who had faith in her, And third, named Joy, Who always made her happy. Lived in glee, Three who never flee, Lived with someone good, Who was always in a nice mood. Down by the street, Where they meet, Grandma always stands to greet, With a smile so sweet. She always fried fish, But rarely made a wish, Always loved to cook, But never read a book. Whenever the pan cligs, The kittens start to sing, Ahh, Home sweet home, There is no place like home.

I hate to see the face he makes, The way he teases me, The face that makes me laugh, The face that makes me angry, The face that makes me cry, But not the face that makes me glad, Nor the one that brings me joy, For just like him, I too love making faces, To make others happy, To take away their sadness,  And bring them joy, To bring a smile to the sad, The lonely, the sick,  The downtrodden, To help make my surroundings and world a better place.