My hamster

Creeping slowly with no fear,

Little by little getting near,

Why does she want to travel here?

Over the shoe she softly peers,

Towards the stairs.

Padding along ever so sly,

Up towards the stairway high,

Then she gives a little cry,

I’m fed up of chairs.

Then she found a strand of hay,

And some cardboard painted grey,

Someone was heard to say,

She walks in a funny way,

Towards the stairs.

Eyes like small black bugs,

Fur like a soft silk rug,

Creeping passed a mug,

Lying by the chairs,

She has a funny little gait,

Then she stops and waits,

Over by an old wine crate,

Stands at a big white plate,

Lying by the stairs.

Though she is quite small,

Curled up in a little ball,

Everything looks so tall,

Especially the chairs.