Turbo
My old mate wears a tuxedo,
or so they say,
and he speaks in a voice so small
that’s smaller than the mice
he never hunts
and wouldn’t disturb even whispered
conversation.
My old mate is the Boss in our house,
relaxed, determined,
and every inch of cool.
I have other mates here
but Turbo, as he’s known,
is my best mate,
my sergeant at arms,
and my cuddly cat
at night.
My old mate is my kindred spirit,
my soul mate
who bares his neck
and uses his claws,
always at the right time.
My old mate is Turbo
and I swear he’ll never be discharged.
