Poetry Archives

At dusk I saw a craintive mouse
That sneaked and stole around the house;
At first I took it for a ghost,
For it was snowy white—almost.

I’ve seen them in captivity,
But this white mouse was wild and free,
And every eye with stealth it stole
And foraged in the garbage hole.

I told the folks, yet wondered why
No one could see the mouse but I;
For it was really, truly white,
And not just silvered by moonlight.

And then there came a big black cat,
And thought I said: “Get out of that!”
It stared at me with savage eyes,
As big and yellow as moonrise.

And often times I wonder whether
They didn’t just go off together,
In the bright moonlight, paw in paw,
For never more my mouse I saw.