The lines and shadows of ocean followed the fish
And dancing, glistening light poured from the sun
I chose my prey, and began to plan a dish
An intriguing dish for my mother, the nun

I lay in the grass and stalked the sheep
And there I schemed and dreamed of foods for kings
And when I killed, no cry arose, not a peep
Then two of plan A, yum! The pigeon wings!

The meal, madly I bedecked with feathers
All around, haphazardly placed, ill matching balloons
Deviously my laughter rang on and whether
To invite, became the decision, buffoons

Hence I planned the birthday of my mother
I am illegitimate, but still, I do love her