poem

I'm a very small mouse, and I reckon
the safest place here for me,
would be underneath the cupboard
that sits beneath the T.V.

I tried the beanbag,
I liked everything about it,
but Holly and Jessie
used it as a jumping pit.

Then I made a mistake,
'cause Bruce was home,
and I ran 'round the skirting -
mice highway zone.

There was a terrible silence.
I could hear him thinking.
I ran straight for the beanbag,
not skulking or slinking.

But the beanbag was gone.
Before me he got there.
I was really confused.
It used to be somewhere.

I panicked so hard, I ran
straight into the skirting,
then I staggered outside,
dazed and really hurting.

Now, out here's wandering cats.
Through the neighbourhood they rampage.
One's white and furry, and the other's
black and grey, with stripage.

The last time I saw mother
was in one's mouth one night.
So I learnt from my experience,
and keep well out of sight.

and I'm happy outside now,
with compost, plants and wheelie bin,
and an old garden cupboard
for me to live in.

And the house has a sign now,
beside the back door,
saying, KEEP OUT MICE,
OR WE'LL SET MOUSETRAPS!

I wish I had my beanbag!