From burrow to sunrise, Phil gasps at his own dark tail,Six chilly weeks still prowl the wind on winter’s trail,I flick my whiskers, purr—the frost is not through yet,Says Psychic…
From burrow to sunrise, Phil gasps at his own dark tail,Six chilly weeks still prowl the wind on winter’s trail,I flick my whiskers, purr—the frost is not through yet,Says Psychic…