LB ( / )

Ode To One Mouse

Tiny little mouse,
running 'round my room
search near and far
for something to consume.

I see your tiny traces
all over the place.
I want to call you Fred
but your name may be Grace.

Little whiskers flying
you run across my chair.
You fly so fast, dear mouse,
you seem to float on air.

I see you in the evenings
when you come out to play
I can't help but wonder.
What do you do all day?

I see you now, mouse
on the corner of my bed.
You look right at me
And tilt your little head.

I wish you would come closer.
I hope that you will see
Though I cannot move
you would find a friend in me.

If you decide you like me
you could play in my hair.
And when they get me up
we could both ride in my chair.

LOOK! There in the shadows.
Is that Old Tom, the cat?
What does he thing he's doing
lurking 'round like that?

I guess you had better go now.
Come back another day.
When he is so close
it is not safe to play.

NO!

Tom, you mindless scoundrel,
get off of my bed.
This is my friend mouse
And I don't want him dead.

RUN!

Tom, you come back here.
Leave that mouse alone.
Forget your fearsome nature
till my friend mouse has flown.

Oh, mouse.

I do not blame you
for not seeing me once more.
It is obvious to me
you are not safe on my floor.

I do so long to see you;
maybe touch your little ear.
But I have no hope of that
While bad Old Tom is here.

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Comments (1)

such a comfort this delightful poem witty and tinged with humor especially the tangled hair a wonderful tale of observation and compassion