In the cupboard, near the cheese, <br />sits a mouse, down on his knees. <br />Nibbles with much haste and pleasure <br />from the medium Cheddar treasure. <br /> <br />Unbeknownst to that small mouse, <br />Tomcat Tom lives in the house. <br />Whiskers homing in with skill, <br />almost ready for the kill. <br /> <br />BANG, the door flies open wide, <br />no place to go nowhere to hide. <br />Now the cat jumps on the mouse, <br />ripping her white cotton blouse. <br /> <br />Never mind, the end is near, <br />and I personally fear, <br />that the blouse will not be worn, <br />(even if it were not torn) . <br /> <br />Cat is happy now and dining <br />after a last second whining, <br />mice are eaten head to tail, <br />that way they're fresh and don't go stale. <br /> <br />Another matter is the cheese. <br />The mouse had begged the cat to, please <br />just let her finish her last meal. <br />But most cats look at mice that kneel <br /> <br />in front of cheddar with disdain. <br />So, pleas like that are made in vain, <br />as do frank bribes and tiny tears, <br />they fall on stoic feline ears. <br /> <br />The mouse has disappeared from life, <br />now Tomcat takes the cheddar knife <br />and cuts himself a hefty wedge, <br />consumes it, sitting on the edge. <br /> <br />His ancestors were Gallic cats, <br />those are the ones that chase big rats. <br />In France it is considered wise <br />to eat some cheese before you rise <br /> <br />from any meal, to make strong bones. <br />They serve it in cold pewter cones. <br />Thus Tom, to follow the tradition, <br />has two big helpings on this mission. <br /> <br />And, in the silence of the house <br />he wipes his lips with the torn blouse.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/french-cheese-children/
