A Fox Not Golden

A fox not golden but red once said, let us all eat at the table before we go to bed. Sat at the table, going left all around, there did they sit, making not a sound. A fox not golden but red once said, be thankful of the food and the winter that has shed. A rabbit of black with strength of the sea, a cold-hearted and thoughtless soul he be. Dwellers of the sand; cats of no mere they decree, far from home but traveling and free. Hound of wind and hound of sun, carefree spirits and seekers of fun. Eyes of purple and spines of Light, his presence flies forth ever through the night. Feather of green and coat of brown, a thief sometimes smiling but never a frown. A curious cat, both naïve and whim, ever joyous, not transient or dim. A Rabbit of white, not nice nor kind, a seeker of material things, not love or mind. All of his friends, different and vain, but together they sit, again and again. A fox not golden but red once said, thank you for reading, but it is time for bed.