Mice and cheese Are a blessing indeed! Mice burrow in soil, Foraging, Planting the seed. The seed will grow Into food we need. Aerating plants, Making a home for ants. They also serve As a meal as well— Food for foxes, Snakes, and owls. It seems there’s always Someone on the prowl! And mice are pets, Social and clean, With furry whiskers, Though rarely seen. Feed your little mouse Some cheese: By and by, All will be pleased.

How do I address you, friend so dear, I—hounded by time's onward press— in seeking comfort at your breast: What strength have I to speak my fear? Is it welcome that I be so bold? "Love is basic"— convention's creed, "Be cautious!" conscience does proceed, tense, beset; am I ever free? Knowing the untried is agony, when opposites share company. My concern? That there's a greater more, Something better is new in store than what was once could come to be! Wonderful, that what was yet not, could...

Someone’s been following me of late, Whose face I cannot fully see. A shadowy figure, a trick of the light, Which may be a part of me. Why I am pacing after myself, Heaven above only knows, But the heavy feeling of being watched Only grows and grows. Who they are or what they want, I truly have no idea, But they are there and pressing close, Drawing entirely too near. You may think I’m slipping into madness, As the elderly sometimes do, But if a shadow pursued your steps, I think you...