In the time it took to cook the dinner
The cat caught a mouse.
It was almost dead by the time
He bought it back home to the house
Its red eyes, opened and glazed
I watched its tiny body heave and sigh
And wondered how it felt,
To know it was about to die.
I laid it in a box of grass
And twigs and earthy loam
And hoped it might think it had escaped
Back to the fields where field mice roam
It’s funny how I cried the moment that mouse died
And I’ll never understand why
The cat sat purring by my side
‘You won’t be late with my dinner again.’
I’m sure I heard him chide.