Though cold and numb
The birdies come
To feed at the back, on the deck.

The snow is high
But still they fly
To the hole ... to pick and peck.

I spied with my little eye

In our garage
There lived a mouse.
I fed him each day
With food from the house.

One day he vanished
And I don't know why.
Did he not like the food
Or did he die?

Then we took the car
For an engine test.
And under the hood
Was a mouse's nest.

Now I really think
That the mouse I spied,
Has been broiled or baked
Or maybe fried.

R.I.P Mickey