Out of Ing

My back’s in the sun with a ring-a-ling-ding Have to admit I am doing my thing I sit outside with couch, but no vase of Ming The dog and cat are here, bringing me bling I hear a cardinal alight with a teensy ping She begins to open her beak to try to sing The cat jumps up and she takes off on one wing You see on this porch Shark my cat is the king A Prime delivery truck stops; I hear a cha-ching. Have no idea what it is; I ask him to fling. He refuses to do it, what a ding-a-ling! I grab it and throw it myself with a zing. He gives me a good day and leaves after I sling. This package of cookies on the couch, tied with string I would continue this poem if I was not out of ing But since I am, I will limp inside on my torn-up hamstring. Written 8-15-2021 Contest: Monorhyme Sponsor: William Kekaula