Curiosity

There was a sound coming from back of the old house Or, was it his imagination, in his head? There it was again, a metallic clicking mouse He’s the only one home, can’t be his mate instead Finally, his curiosity got the best He rose from the dining room table and his book Taking off his reading glasses, scratching his chest In his socks, padding down the hall to take a look He followed the noise to a dank darkened bedroom As his vision adjusted to the lack of light Crouched before him, large eyes looking up from the gloom Arrival the new day, he was nowhere in sight There’re sayings about curiosity and that But, once and awhile, they are gotten by the cat © Copyrights G. Jones 2008