Thirty years we have lived in this lovely home,
And now we have a mouse in the house.
But I love it (the house, not the mouse).
I worry that it might come up from the basement,
Or invite others buddies in for merriment.
So, it's one step forward to the glue board (Stuck!),
Or two steps backward to the cheddar cheese (Snap!).
Otherwise we could Google a better mousetrap.
People are going GaGa over mid-century decor,
But our house is still dressed in Grandmother's finery.
The furniture just needs to be reupholstered with tapestry,
And the clock repairman tells us to have no fears,
"This grandfather clock is made to run for another 300 years."
Folks have come and gone on our concrete front steps.
One harsh winter we had to add a wooden patch
When a huge chunk fell out of the top stair.
Fortunately, each spring renews our hope that
We can get by with another superficial repair.
A woodpecker drummed with such diligence
That holes dotted the hollow Doric columns of our front porch.
But the quick-setting Bondo solved this nuisance.
The robins still build a sturdy nest above our oval window,
But we can coexist with them and their song, "Cheer-o, cheer-o!"
The Scottish terriers ("Down, Barney!") have also shared our home.
Their unconditional love enriches our daily routine.
But thank goodness for the Green Cleaning Machine.
When it gets humid in the summer I fret
That the floors are telling stories I would rather forget.
We contemplate moving to a new home on a cul-de-sac road,
But how can we leave behind our beautiful abode,
And the foyer when it is visited by rainbows,
Created by the sun on the beveled glass
As it shines through our stained glass windows?
And do you hear that click?
It's not the computer mouse
Or the mouse living in our house.
It's the signal from the mahogany grandfather clock:
It's getting ready to chime the time. "Tick-Tock..."