I see thee, chickadee, on pane’s outside side, but hop not sans fear.

Feet yaw happily meow, but they will freeze upon meeting my leer.

Inside plants are bearless of a suitable snack for grr-purring tum.

Chirp my warnings as rodomomtade and risk a defeathered bum.

My witenagemot of kitten-gamut has advised me of a secret trick.

Time for tiger meets toast, so fly-bye before the latch gets my paw’s tap and pick. ; )