The great black owl prepares to fly <br /> <br />Invisible against the three O’ clock sky <br /> <br />He releases his old and evil cry <br /> <br />And the animals <br /> <br />beneath know that one of them must die. <br /> <br /> <br />All the little critters scatter <br /> <br />You hear a patter pitter, pitter patter <br /> <br />It makes quite a loud flamboyant clatter <br /> <br />In the knowing that only one of them will splatter. <br /> <br /> <br />There is a pale elderly mouse <br /> <br />Standing next to the frail Victorian house <br /> <br />Who just had its luck run way down south <br /> <br />Because it is deaf and couldn’t hear the old and evil cry <br /> <br /> <br />And as the pale old mouse went a-splatter <br /> <br />Nothing was the sadder <br /> <br />Because you and the mice alike <br /> <br />Knew that it didn’t really matter. <br /> <br /> <br /> <br />Read more: http: //authspot.com/poetry/it-doesnt-really-matter-under-the-three-oclock-sky/#ixzz0mQ8ylR5t<br /><br />Jon Cooper<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-doesnt-really-matter-under-a-three-o-clock-sky/
