The Rat.

This poem is about the story I wrote before ,about the Rat on my bedside table ,while in New Guinea .

He sits and looks I wonder why
the little eyes all red and sly
His funny little face
looking as if in disgrace
I wonder why he looks at me.

What do you see when you look at me?
I wonder if I should charge a fee.
Now what could it be as it isn’t fare,
sitting there on my table bare.
One small foot used to clean your face,
others there so you remain in place.
Don’t you dare come any closer I say
for I cant move so I start to pray.
.
Laying here on my bed all day,
Moving my leg is hard I can say.
Falling down that mountain side,
hurting my knee when I went for that slide.
Hitting the rock ,my knee twisted so,
Oh how it hurt made tears start to flow.

Closing my eyes then opening them wide,
Your still here, you have such a hide.
Cant have you there, just dreaming of me
What can I through I will look and see?
Taking my pillow and swinging it wide.
hoping to knock you away from the side.
Jumping on my bed and running all around,
I cant move or put my foot to the ground.

Yelling and screaming get off of my bed
Father came running wondering whats in my head..
Picking you up by that thin tail and paws
shaking his head and going to the door.
Flinging you high,I wonder if you fly.
Thank God for that I thought I would die,
What will I do with you Father did say,
as off to the loo with a Priest if you may!
I wonder why he looks at me?

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