Katy Katz was going bats,
Without any company.
For a loose-tongued gossip that’s
Just as bad as it can be.


Nobody ever dropped by,
To speak with her anymore,
For they had all grown gun shy
And would tip-toe past her door.


In suite six forty-seven,
She’d spend each boring day.
Then, to bed at eleven,
With no one coming her way.


The entire building knew
All about her poison tongue.
When spotting her, off they flew,
And her bell was never rung.


Katy, so very feeble,
Couldn’t get around, you see,
And her lies turned off people,
Who all shunned her instantly.


She’d stand out in the hallway,
Watching the elevator.
Neighbors had nothing to say,
Except, “Hi, see you later.”


Her two goldfish, too, withdrew,
Her gossip hard to swallow,
For even those creatures knew,
Their bowl wasn't that shallow.


Mice fled from her apartment,
Cockroaches scampered away,
Even dust motes weren’t content
To hear what she had to say.


Often, she spoke with her cat,
Making up stories and lies,
Which one day made the cat scat,
And that should be no surprise.


One living sound made her cry -
The tape she was playing now
That brought damp tears to her eye:
Old Katy Katz cat’s meow.






© By Richard McCusker (rmrickmack@aol.com)










         

 

 






Slideshow 2 by Matt


Summer Feet


Collectable Things


Kick Back and Relax


Memories of the Past


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