To Kill a Mouse

To Kill a Mouse

Three cats crouched in a line of shadow,

eyes like gold coins in a gambler’s hand,

the floor hummed with the sound of patience,

and a small heart beat too loud to hide.

The mouse stood proud for something so small,

a scrap of courage dressed in grey,

its whiskers trembling with quiet revolt,

the room thick with the taste of fate.

One cat twitched its tail like a question,

another blinked slow, dreaming of chase,

the black one moved an inch too near,

the mouse took one step back into silence.

Time long between the breaths,

a standoff older than sin itself,

where hunger meets fear and calls it art,

where life decides to laugh before it ends.

Then the smallest miracle occurred,

the mouse squeaked like breaking glass,

and every cat jumped back in shock,

their bravery spilled upon the floor.

For a moment they all just stared,

each side unsure who ruled the night,

and the mouse, with perfect timing,

walked away like a king disguised as prey.

The cats sat stunned in quiet defeat,

their tails now still, their pride undone,

to kill a mouse had seemed so easy,

until the mouse refused to run.