This is what I wrote on my Facebook page, and the poem I wrote for the little mouse follows that. My Facebook post caused others to comment on the unwanted little creatures that visit them.
RIP to the mouse that was caught in the trap at the same
moment Jake walked in the front door a little while ago. And RIP to all of the
mice who have died in my kitchen mouse traps. I wish you hadn't been caught,
but I also wish you'd stayed out of my kitchen.
When I finally become enlightened, this will stop happening,
but I'm not there yet. Sorry
To the mouse who visited uninvited,
I’m sorry. You snuck into my kitchen
and nibbled where danger lurked.
The quick trap snap probably took you
by surprise, as efficiently, it took your life.
My eyes prickled with tears as I watched
your death spasms, your little legs twitching.
I'm sorry. I wish you’d never visited at all.
I disposed of your soft, still body, as I’ve
disposed of so many of your kind.
My kitchen isn’t your larder, and I’m not here
My kitchen isn’t your larder, and I’m not here
to keep you and your kind fed. Goodbye.
If you have little creatures who visit you, please tell about them here. Mice, lizards, insects...
3 comments:
a sweet little poem, Carolyn; I wish that the mouse could read it. Did you look in its eyes?
Talking of which Barry left a reply to your comment on 'The Eye'; I thought it would be fitting if you replied and not me
Thanks John, I've left a comment on your blog, addressed to Barry's comment.
I've just found a typo in my poem here, so I must go and fix it! I hate typos in my own work!
Another mouse died here last night. It was left overnight, and our son Jake removed it this morning. I'm not sure whether he thought about the death of this little creature, or just threw it away like a piece of rubbish...
Goodbye, little thing, unwanted, unneeded. I wish there was a way we could live together but we can't not the way you want to live. My house is MY house, not yours, so don't use my kitchen like you and your kind do.
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