Whenever Annie fed her flying cat,
a certain bearded man came back,
a handsome bearded man, in fact –
who spoke of this, but never that,
if “that’s” what Annie thought “that” was,
to ponder the sort of cat this was.
Clearly he’d never heard the buzz
that ran through town about the fuzz
and fur Amelia Earhart shed
which hadn’t missed a face or head
or food served out of doors: to eat
fur balls in soup was not a treat.
But no, the bearded man was there
because he loved seeing Annie care
for something so benignly rare
and interesting. Still sweeter fare
was when he heard the kitty’s name:
Amelia Earhart! – amazing dame!
And now he knew (had some bell
rung?) that Annie was one as well.
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