Thursday, January 22, 2009

An Explanation

Your dainty face was buried, nestled
like an egg in wool, an egg
warm and brown, you slept soft
with a still nose and whiskers.
But I was not still.
Alarmed I pounced, cat-like I caught
you as you dreamed.
Hastily, greedily I snatched
the warm depth, the soft folds
of the peaceful nest,
disturbed your quiet snores.

You see,
sweaters are not for mice.

3 comments:

Holly said...

Aaah! I adore this!

Every time it rains she just feels a lot better... said...

Thank you... my first real poem ever.

Holly said...

Well, I can tell that you have been accustomed to reading poetry.