# Mouse Poems

Author: Squirrel
Tags: Bat, Mouse, Romance

Author's Note: Something a bit different, I guess. Some story-poems, as it were. Field/Adelaide poems, all of them. Which means, thematically, they're laced with lots of romance/love. But I thought I would share just a few (three) of them. Hope they're okay.  
  
  
  
DURING FRIDAY BREAKFAST  
  
It happened during Friday breakfast,  
after the thirsty, sprinkling rain,  
and before the hummingbirds began to wane.  
I had just finished my civil cereal,  
my cinnamon shredded wheat,  
  
when I was hit by a sudden, spicy,  
full-body shiver,  
a wake-up punch,  
a white-rapid river of  
rushing thoughts that  
went and weakened me at the knees  
and made my paws a bit sweaty.  
I nearly dropped my spoon.  
  
I gave a bewildered squeak  
as I brought my bowl to the silvery sink,  
bare foot-paws scuffling on the linoleum floor,  
dilated pupils watching milk and water pool down the drain  
as my body flipped all the off-switches in my brain.  
  
Next, came a tantalizing, tingling quiver,  
my ever-active nose and whiskers  
twitching like I was itching  
to be scratched. And, by this time, I was.  
Oh, scratch me, please,  
all down my belly and back.  
I began to tremble from a shortness of breath.  
  

  This is what sexual arousal does to a mouse.  
  
So, a weak, bewildered walk  
to the bed, through the living room  
like a wedding-night groom,  
until I was sitting on the edge  
of our warm, double mattress. And I swallowed  
as my blunt-clawed, furry toes curled  
and my tail unfurled  
like a downed power line.  
  
You, already awake,  
with dim, cloudy light slanting through the window,  
tilted your pretty, batty head and  
said, "Flustered?"  
  
I weakly nodded,  
my ears  
burning  
hot  
like oven-tops,  
and my gaze desperately swimming in yours.  
  
But through the searing heat,  
something always greets  
such animal instinct. And I know it's  
faith  
and  
love,  
tempering all lust  
with meaning that throbs and thrusts.  
  
"You look like you need somethin'," you continued,  
all pink and perfect with your  
pearly-white fangs.  
And, darling, even in the state I was in,  
that sparkle in your eyes  
didn't escape me.  
It never does.  
  
"I, uh ... uh. Um, Adelaide ... "  
  
" ... say it," you whisper,  
needing it just as much. Oh,  
telepathic, winged thing,  
you always understand.  
"It's okay, Field ... "  
  

  Lips dry,  
voice wispy and shy,  
I manage a dizzy nod, a panted,  
"I wanna ... have sex ... with you. Please,"  
I stumble. "Make love? With me?"  
I descend, then, into effeminate, delicate-postured squeaks,  
feeling somewhat like a fool.  
But, Lord, I'm the way I am,  
and, Lord, it's what I need!  
  
You grin,  
giving a hungry sigh, saying,  
"If you only knew how cute you were ... "  
Followed with an unashamed, sultry command of,  
"Get beneath the sheets."  
  
I wriggled right in,  
and we began to melt  
as we do daily,  
into a steamy mixture of muzzles, muff, and mouse-hood,  
hips, legs, and lips,  
breasts, rumps, and tails. Writhing wonderfully,  
wing-wrapped and bit,  
nibbled and licked. Everything crying for purchase,  
and the day so stale  
compared to the fresh rising of our love.  
  
And, oh, ah, as we went, I felt  
a fiery, frosty relief  
pleasure me  
pure  
and  
deep!  
  
Such satisfaction, darling. You truly  
made me sane again.  
  
And if it's true that my heart's been  
half-asleep  
inside of me,  
then it's utterly clear that it  
wakes up when you're around, cause  
you're the moon that trips my tide.  
  

  For during Friday breakfast  
I was definitely  
most thoroughly  
beautifully  
alive.  
  
  
  
  
INGREDIENTS  
  
If mouses were a recipe,  
they would be:  
  
2 cups each  
of scurry and squeak  
  
2 cups wide-eyed faith  
  
1 1/2 cup sharp, shredded anxiety  
  
1 cup extract of 'effeminate'  
  
3/4 cup spice of submissiveness  
  
3/4 cup pure, powdered tenderness  
  
1/2 cup whisker-twitch and nose-sniff (combined)  
  
1/2 cup assorted (other) 'mousey motions'  
(wriggle, squirm, swivel, and snake)  
  
2 Tbsp. innocence  
  
3 tsp. salty tears  
  
And, oh, yes:  
  
1 stick of sweetened sex (or more, to taste)  
  
Sprinkle with cuteness and serve to pink-furred bats.  
  
  
  
  
A SUNSET FIRE  
  
Warm, baited breathing  
supplants what came before,  
cruel, gnawing anxiety  
shown the back-porch door.  
For you looked into my void,  
and declared it 'good,'  
called it 'light.'  
And said: 'I don't mind a mouse.'  
  
(Yes ... )  
  
... you entered my world  
like a pink sunset fire,  
delaying the start of night.  
The 'toss-and-turn' mire  
cleared out of my lonely bed.  
A space for you, dear,  
in my sheets,  
instead. All reason faulted ...  
  

  ( ... I'm speaking with my heart. And ... )  
  
love, all my kisses  
sizzle on your sweet cheeks,  
making me ask, 'Lord, from whence  
do these blessings speak?'  
Oh, like a coming of age,  
I have now arrived  
at a peace  
eternal. All demons are tamed.  
  
( ... may my love fill you as you've filled me,  
darling.)

Source: https://sofurry.com/s/dmBKOAn6