A Letter
I came to babysit your cats
_‘Round eight o’clock tonight,
But things aren’t going as they ought
_And… I’m nervous, so I thought
It might be good to write.
(In my defense, you could have said
That I should be prepared,
Then maybe I could plan ahead
Instead of being scared).
Well, I suppose it all began
_When Mustard saw a mouse,
That darted round outside to play
And Mustard blinked as if to say,
_“Please let it in the house.”
He looked at me with those big eyes
_And waved his gorgeous tail,
His charms had cast a naughty spell
And helpless under it I fell,
_Struggling to no avail.
I let the mouse come creeping in
_To please the little terror,
It gave a squeak and zipped away—
I think that I can safely say
_This was my gravest error.
For Mustard energetically
_Pursued with leaps and dashes,
While Pepper, crouched to ambush it,
Exploded from the cabinet
_And shattered all the glasses.
The books were knocked from all the shelves
_Amid the frantic war,
Straight up the blinds the rodent shot—
The kittens chased without a thought
_(That’s how the curtains tore).
Next the brushes, paints, and pens
_Were scattered everywhere,
Now patterns decorate the chairs
And pawprints sprinkle all the stairs
_And paint is in the air.
The mouse took refuge in the couch
_Which rapidly was ripped,
The stuffing floats around the house
And threads had tangled up the mouse
_So that it fell and tripped.
Like a pouncing lightning-bolt
_They finished up their quest,
For Mustard chomped and ate its head
So now the little mouse was dead
_And Pepper chewed the rest.
But now… they seem quite bloodthirsty,
_They think they can’t be beaten,
At any time they might attack
And so I beg, please hurry back,
_I’m worried I’ll be⎼⎼
Lucia Fisher graduated from Benedictine College with majors in physics and philosophy. She is a current astrophysics Ph.D. student at the University of Arkansas.
Discover more from Society of Classical Poets
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
