The day we had mice - one brown - one grey - both tiny,
my mother screamed, then stood on the kitchen table.
I thought they were cute, and wanted to play with them.
Certainly they were unique to me at three.
Father dashed in (it was Saturday),
and then rushed at them brandishing the broom.
I was glad they both got away ––
scurrying toward the basement storage room.
But father soon went out, and took the lead.
He set traps baited with bits of cheddar cheese.
Afterward we found the creatures dead ––
necks crushed. I felt ill at ease.
Poor little things! All they knew was hunger.
Should hunger be a capital offense?
FreeThinke - 9/30/08