The creeping of quietness
Shadows establishing a mask
The stripes of predictable patterns
Tip Toe Tip Toe
At the same time the pouring of splashing
Running in to the deep delight
Almost there
Sniffing of sweet aroma
Getting closer
Tasty white treat is here
Spinning of circles in the bowl
The clock motion of fluffy bubbles along the inside
Imagination in every
Sizzle frizzle and swizzle of cream love
The tail curls with ease
And the nails are gripping
Almost done whiskers are wet
Looking like St. Nick
The rumble of thanks
Vibrations come forward
Now tired and hiding in shadows
Dead silence
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