A verse on a mouse, in the tradition of Burns…
He comes and goes – or is it she
Who shares this flat I live in with me,
They come and go, footsteps I hear
Yet never see when they appear…
It is no ghost with whom I live
To whom a home I unknowingly give,
That never answers the hello that I greet
To the sound of their scurrying feet.
When all is dark, and quiet and still
And of the night Ive had my fill
When I hear the mouse there as I’m in my home…
I know in a way, I’m never alone!