I have been looking back over the poems on the website. At least one is so dreadful I must bin it.

Tonight's poem is one I am still proud of, and proud of the shaven-haired daughter who sat in a front row for its premiere.

DEBUTANTES

Our five-month kitten just wants to go clubbing,
With dancing paws and twirling tail, ears pricked,
Pert, pleading face and nifty whiskers; rubbing
And purring round our ankles: Don't get kicked!

We'll keep her in till she's been spayed at Christmas,
To save us from a wealth of tortoiseshell:
More pattering paws! And all that litter business!
Too young to be a mum, so guard her well!

Out teenager just wants to go out clubbing:
Proud-walking, shaven-headed, trendy gear;
Young, open heart, free spirit. Is she rubbing
Against the kind of friends we want her near?

We can't cage her, nor keep her in till Christmas
To smash her wings against the prison walls.
We must lengthen out her tether: it's the business
Of parenthood. Outside, the big world calls.

She's restless, like a boat that bobs at anchor;
Let her practise in the bay, a few more turns;
Then trust her to the ocean. If it sank her,
We'd rescue her. Let's hope that she returns!

We wish her happy ventures and safe harbour!
It's much simpler with the kitten: we'll just guard her!