Alys knitted tiny hats

which she liked to place on cats

until one day little Tiddles bit her

for placing bonnets on her litter.

Alys, injured, slowly crawled

through the doors and down the hall.

And we found her decades later

Tangled in the rotivator

For Alys, it had come to pass

had expired quietly, in the grass.

Oh dear, poor Alys. Her gown was once cream, but all the grass stains have ruined it, and her hat has gone missing too. She has developed a pollen allergy, an affinity for insects (they are all she had to talk to when she was lying abandoned in the grass) and a deep and abiding distrust of cats.


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4 Responses to Alys

  1. Angela says:


  2. What a great doll and poem for the spooky season. Alys met a very bad end. Poor dear.

  3. Anna says:

    Oh, poor, poor Alys!

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