A cat, rotund, in stark monochrome
lounged near a case stacked with tomes.
His eyes, how they fluttered, all while he lazed
beneath the fireflies’ unending glow.
At fourteen years senior, we thought, rightly so,
that his mouse-catching days were a dream
he dreamt while he fell asleep upon the plush-padded floor.

But, lo, a rustle in the neighboring room piques
our brave knight’s attention from slumber.
In seconds he rises and makes for the door
I swear lightning could not have moved faster.
We damsels curled upon our chaise in a quite fearful daze
as we heard thunder clap from the battleground yonder.
The sounds of a struggle, could it possibly be that our hero
had been beaten fair?

Yet, behold, here he comes with a prize ‘tween his teeth
I must squint to be sure it is there.
Yes, a mouse, I can see it, the gray corpse is pierced
by two golden sabers acute.
The warrior drops his own prize at our feet
as we stand up and shout to the sky,
“Huzzah!  The fierce Twinkle has done it again, 
he has slain his most infamous foe!”

So ends the great tale of Twinkle the hunter,
whose might knows nothing of age,
and may we recall his loyalty true
so long as Arcturus shines bright up above.