by Phelicity Marie Dauphine
When I was a kit, I was feisty and fit,
I was total perfection in fur.
While other kits tumbled and splatted and stumbled,
I'd radiate grace and allure.
The cats in the house, well, they could catch a mouse,
And that wasn't exactly my scene.
But the bedroom I started my life in, I guarded
The door like a warrior queen.
The oldest- she clouted me, one of them pouted,
But ever so bravely I stood!
They all only gazed and brushed past me, amazed,
That a kit half as big as them could.
So from that day forward if any went doorward,
I staked out my spot and my claim.
I dug in my claws, though I got no applause,
They would tend to ignore me the same.
The princess inherent, the heiress apparent,
A young queen in waiting was I.
No kit was above them, my way was to love them,
But where's my respect? I would sigh.
I'm older and grown and I fear it's well known
That I'm still rather little and short.
But as I become queen at the age of fifteen,
I'm a queen who prepared for her court.
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