Ripples

With his turned up nose and whiskers At all that life could bring, The tiger known as Sour Puss, Would growl at anything! He loathed the sun, he loathed the rain, He loathed the clouds above, In fact, he was a royal pain, With nothing much to love... But when he found the silver stream Where ripples were at play, He changed, as if now in a dream, They really made his day... His whiskers arched in great surprise And then he tip-toed in... Forced to agree that it felt nice Upon his tiger skin... 'Oh, yes! ' he said, 'This sure feels good! ' He grinned from ear-to-ear! As if confirming that he would Be soon returning here... He watched the ripples mesmerised, As they danced to-and-fro... Their spectacle so highly prized, He didn't want to go...