Tick...tock...tick...tock...

It's not giant monsters who creep out of closet doors,
Werewolves with ferocious growls or ghosts on midnight tours.
It's not grumpy goblins or ghouls from ancient lores.
No, it's not myths or legends that my timid heart deplores.

Tick...tock...tippy, tappy...tick...tock...

It's teensy, tinesy creatures who scamper on all fours,
Running up and down the walls, and through the corridors.

Tick...tock...nibble, gnaw...tick...tock...

Shrieks shriller than the curse of a banshee as it soars,
Fangs sharper than a vampire's dripping red with bloody gores,
Gnawing skills more precocious than a zombie carnivore's,
And don't forget the gremlin claws scratching up the floors.

Tick...tock...tippy, tappy, nibble, gnaw...tick...tock...

I tremble in my bed when they interrupt my snores.
"It's just imagination," my weary mind implores
Trying to drift back to sleep, but nothing reassures.
They sally forth to pillage, these mini Minotaurs,
Causing rack and ruin as they plunder earthly stores.

Tick...tock...tippy, tappy, scritchy, scratch...tick...tock...

Thank goodness for the cat and the hunting she adores.
"Mouse Murder" tops the list of her gruesome daily chores.
For I don't know a pied piper, the best of troubadours,
Or a witch or a wizard who could whip-up magic cures
To make the vermin vanish and rid me of these horrors.

Tick...tock...tippy, tappy, scritchy, scratch, nibble, gnaw...tick...tock...

I know it seems obsessive to be plotting mousy wars,
Scheming death for small gray beasts, both in and out of doors,
But it soothes my inner demons. Pray tell me--what are yours?

Tick...tock...tick...tock...