SCUTTLE, scuttle, little roach— <br /> How you run when I approach: <br /> Up above the pantry shelf, <br /> Hastening to secrete yourself. <br /> <br /> Most adventurous of vermin, <br /> How I wish I could determine <br /> How you spend your hours of ease, <br /> Perhaps reclining on the cheese. <br /> <br /> Cook has gone, and all is dark— <br /> Then the kitchen is your park: <br /> In the garbage heap that she leaves <br /> Do you browse among the tea leaves? <br /> <br /> How delightful to suspect <br /> All the places you have trekked: <br /> Does your long antenna whisk its <br /> Gentle tip across the biscuits? <br /> <br /> Do you linger, little soul, <br /> Drowsing in our sugar bowl? <br /> Or, abandonment most utter, <br /> Shake a shimmy on the butter? <br /> <br /> Do you chant your simple tunes <br /> Swimming in the baby's prunes? <br /> Then, when dawn comes, do you slink <br /> Homeward to the kitchen sink? <br /> <br /> Timid roach, why be so shy? <br /> We are brothers, thou and I. <br /> In the midnight, like yourself, <br /> I explore the pantry shelf!<br /><br />Christopher Morley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/scuttle-scuttle-little-roach/
