When Lucie came to live with me
she wouldn't let me pet.
Now she pleads and rubs and begs;
I'm glad she did forget.
She talks to me, day in day,
and tells me what she needs.
For a petting or some food,
she pleads and pleads and pleads.
She comes to me upon my bed
and snuggles up so warm.
Through the night I might reach out,
caress her sleeping form.
She was afraid to romp or play,
she didn't want a ball.
Now she chases laser lights,
attacks me with some gall.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem