Watching Or Being Watched
If big brother were watching me
just think how insanely bored he’d be.
But never the less, I must confess,
I have been spied on ruthlessly.
Not one, but four pair of eyes observe,
disapproving that I have the nerve
to walk on the deck they’ve commandeered.
I am a monster to be feared.
They feed on the chow that I provide,
this creature whom they can’t abide.
Though their own mother approves of me,
I take one step and they all flee.
I don’t know why they’re so afraid.
Is there some subtle hint I’ve made
that if into my hands they get
I’ll spay or neuter the whole quartet?
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
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