A Picky Cat*

Yummiest of food, my bowl now
Is there before me yet somehow,
I meow about the kitchen floor
To ask for better food once more.

Now, late last night at half past ten,
Here this morning meow again,
And cry with shame the unjust score
Of yucky food served here once more. 

And when the man ignores my gloom,
Goes into the living room,
Alone at last I eat my meal.
Prey my tortured soul to heal.

*Hat tip to A. E. Housman