The Sleepwalking, Mad-talking, Hedgehogging mouse
Or
Why Doctors Aren’t Worth the Money
The hearth has burned for hours now, it seems
My head is aching too, I’m sured
Of all the things I whispered in my dreams
For walkers never sleep until they’re cured.
Last night I think I swatted at the flies
And shrieked with laughter at the harvest moon
But through it all I simply closed my eyes
And when I woke it was the afternoon!
The doctors have all tried and failed their case
And watched in vain as I’d romp round the house
They said my madness could not be erased
But it was all because I was a mouse!
What good does it do to heal a rodent?
The pills never work, no matter how potent!
Copyright 2013 Golden Star Poetry
Golden Star Poetry 