​When I grow up,
I want to be a pudding.
Maybe chocolate...
or ginger;
​still slightly warm and jiggly,
​syruping in the coffee shop vitrine.
​Or on my mother's
kitchen table.

Yes, I think a chocolate pudding...

​When I grow up,
I want to be a frog:
Bright green and yellow,
​with white spots in a line along
the sides of my glistening
white tummy, flying
spread-legged through
​the watery air and
​landing always ready
to jump!

Yes, I think a bright green frog...

​When I grow up,
I want to be a cat
​in my mother's house,
with my choice
of sunny warm spots
​to snooze in
in the morning,
​and tickly patches of garden
​after lunch and any cosy
corners of the bed
at night.

Yes, I think a cat in my mother's house...

-

My mother says I will be a pudding
(or a frog, or a cat, if I like, but)
a pudding suits me best,
​she says, 'cause I'm so sweet.

​Yes, I think a pudding.