Writing

George the Cat

Adam Scarborough 

As I watch the bird glide through the clear air

I stare, my faulty paws before me lay

What have I done, to be this way repaid?

For he does fly but I have these to bear

I can, I will; what will stop me to try?

Believe, and faith will be your wings to fly

 

The day had come for George to test his might

The window to his dreams was now agape

He jumped to clouds that would take him away

But this would be his last to see the light

Will the power of his will save him now?

Or will his faith be overcome by doubt?

 

It wasn’t faith that killed him, George the Cat

What made him George was not that he could fly

But how he hunted mice that roamed the night

It would’ve helped if he wasn’t so fat

As he fell he thought to himself at last,

I tried to be George the Bird, but I am George the Cat.