No More Than Six Hundred

Scrambling and rambling The mice were racing through We held back, not wanting them To drag their ugly tails over our feet. Tearing paper into tiny bits The mice were on fire, running in all directions. The few people in the street Ran back to their houses. It was reported on the news that night That there were tens of thousands of mice Running through, tormenting us. I counted most of them. There were no more than six hundred. You know how the news often exaggerates. It did not used to be that way But all standards have been tossed out now. Uh-oh. I hear some scrambling and rambling On my roof. I check the calendar. It’s December 25th. I run to my bed. I do believe in Santa! I do believe in Santa! The mice stole my slippers that night Ate Santa’s cookies and left a napkin Shredded into little bitty bits.