Stacey was a thirteen year old, one very odd.
Instead of listening to an iPod,
She spends her summers sitting in a Garden,
Spying on flowers and bees, begging their pardon.
She dreams about one day,
Letting her thoughts carry her away.

While sitting in her lonesome spot,
A small, dark object her eyes caught.
A little black cat staring out over the place,
As Stacey’s heart started to race.

Starting to stand to pick the cat up,
She sat herself down again with a jup (jump).
So instead, Stacey started to imagine the cats thoughts,
And she thought and thought and thought lots.

I myself, have the priveldge here,
To tell you her musings both far and near.
Though space has a limit, and time can run out,
Only a few can I dismount.

Stacey wondered about the taboo of Black Cats,
She understood the bias of monsters or bats,
But small, innocent, and adorable?
This saying is absolutely deplorable!

Again, time is short and characters are few,
But maybe you could continue this poem, yet a new.