I’ve worn a baby’s belly now
For months, a growing house.
While first a brush or feather down,
The tenant’s now full moved round.
Home too small, he quivers now
A padding, chattering cat
If I had a miser’s heart
I’d surely raise his rent
Eviction soon, he’s grown too fond
Of sugar and caffeine.
Too sweet, I fear, with too much zest
This house will kick him out.