The Mews were all snuggled asleep on the bed
With visions of toy-mousies in their sweet heads.
Two napped together, one slightly apart.
And one napped aloof, that one darling old tart.
When what to my wondering eyes did I spy,
But the clock showing that my own bedtime was nigh.
I slid into bed with the greatest of care,
But the Mews sure did know, like I was a bear.
There were mews of complaints,
But we all did adjust.
One curled on the right of me;
Another chose the left.
A third lay beside me.
The fourth took a corner
And we slept through the night like
A drugged bunch of turtles.
And if you are noticing
That my poem lost the rhyme,
Just credit it to
That last glass of wine...
------
There are things that leave
My writing skills some agape.
Its the Wrath of Grapes...
.....
I joke often, I am serious often. I think. I write. It all blends together. I suppose that sometimes, I am the only one who knows exactly what I mean in a post. Jokes can hide serious thoughts and serious thoughts can hide jokes.
