There must be magic in a mouse!
If I creep quietly
Into the bushes by the shed
And lie there patiently,
And if I stay as soft and still
As ever I can be,
I’ll hear a click and see a flick—
And there a mouse will be!
He’ll sit up quickly, turn his head,
And look just everyplace;
And then he’ll lick his little hands
And wash his little face.
And then he’ll find a crunchy seed
That he can sit and munch—
He could be on a holiday,
Eating a picnic lunch!
The more I watch, the more I’d love
To take him home with me—
He has such friendly eyes, and looks
So warm and cuddly;
But if I should so much as move—
I think this is so queer!—
I’ll see a flick and hear a click—
My mouse will disappear!
I go to see my mouse a lot,
But something bothers me:
He doesn’t always look the same—
Could there be two or even three?