In his day, no cat dared
Set foot in his back yard
From battle he returned untouched,
Silken, sure, and hard.
In decline, he brought home scars
Pink line across his nose -- a single ear was pierced
Yet none there were upon his butt
His fighting yet was fierce.
Ouch. Even for a scribbled first draft that's dire.
Mere youth today can best his strength
Yet still he pleads each night
For somebody to [something] the door
To one more challenge, one last fight.
The attentive among you will have noticed that I dropped a page between yesterday's post and today's. That's because said page contained a scan of Marianne's driver's license, blown up to 8 1/2 X 11 size, which she'd had to fax somewhere for some reason of officialdom, and though it was folded in a way that only one quarter of the image showed, I decided it might be possible for somebody to extract personal info by analyzing the bleed-through on the reverse.
Not that I believe anyone here would do such a thing. But why take chances?