Mouse

I've been going through some files and found this small poem, written over six years ago. I did love my pet rodents. Mice, hamsters - gerbils, less so. Bantams and most of all, a flock of doves. They all had names and characters. I spent many hours with them, holding them and watching them, and I loved their whiteness and tumbling flight and dark eyes. I still love to watch flocks of pigeons in the sky today, see them catching the light.

Mouse


When I found you in your nest,
cold and still as a toy,
it was as if we were play-acting
death - so this is what we do.
We cry; I put you in a shoebox.
Hurl you into glory on Dad's bonfire.