A furry ginger cushion rests
on Grandmama's rocking chair by the window
It nuzzles into all the wooden crooks,
filling it all the with squashy orange goodness
The furry ginger cushion rises and falls slowly
fuzzy carrot-coloured wayward threads, a few thin black ones
swinging in the breeze, wheezing in the breeze

Grandmama comes into the room,
stooped little lady, crooked little smile
She wants to have some air
and sits on her rocking chair by the window
The furry ginger cushion yells, leaps,
hisses angrily, and jumps out of the window;
woolly orange bottlebrush tail swinging in the breeze,
whiskers held aloft in proud affront