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THE TRUCE Cold wet nose, floppy ears, Brown coat of spotted white, Curled within his house of red Snoring snug and tight. Winking whiskers, wide brown eyes, Toe nails tapping past, Sneaking up on dreaming pup, Makes sure he's sleeping fast. "The coast is clear!" grins little mouse, Pink hands clap in amuse. He scampers up the siding worn, The rooftop he must use. He crawls inside the puppy house, A hole well worn and tight, Soft nest of crinkled straw awaits To keep him warm at night. Settles down in rafter bed, One eye on napping puppy, Making little rustling sounds, Soon softly snoring, happy. The puppy half in dream One eye awake not quite, Fixes on his fuzzy guest In rays of moon's half-light. The mouse, aware of pup's soft gaze Stares back through folded paws. "Is that a grin the puppy shows, Wet tongue flaps over jaws?" They stretch and yawn and roll on backs And settle in to snooze. On this soft sweet summer night, It seems they've called a truce. |
Additional Notes:
for a friend of mine who needed a laugh
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