My Ball of Fuzz
By Robert Tabb

I had a little ball of fuzz
Deep within my pocket
It sat, so warm,
Peaceful, unscorned
Until I took it
To the Laudry mat
The world was turned
All upside down
Peace is dead
As if it ever existed
And now the poor little ball
Is wet and dying
From the inhalation of the water
At last
Heat
Coming from that gaping hole
Spinning spinning
Non-stop spinning
Warmth is feeling good
Dry as a bone
As well as he likes it
Now, once again
He is comfortable
My cute little ball of fuzz