HIS MASTER'S TOUCH

There was a small mouse
Who lived in a house
That was old and also quite trim.
He was happy there
'Cause he lived in a chair
That the master ate his lunch in.

He could eat his noon snack,
It would fall through a crack
In the chair that was safe and warm.
The maid didn't care
She would just stop and stare
And say "Gosh," with mild alarm.

The mouse would get gay
And the master would say,
"He's acquired my taste for gin."
The wife would remark,
"Why not just start an ark?"
And the master would chuckle and grin.

Life seemed grand
As the mouse and the man
Would watch T.V. from the chair.
They would both turn in
And hear the west wind
As they each said his midnight prayer.

The years they passed
And then at last
The man couldn't get to the chair,
Confined to his bed,
The mouse called Ned
Was sad 'cause he really did care.

The master passed on
By an angel's song
And the heart of the mouse was broken.
No more to sit there
At the edge of the chair
And listen to the old man joking.

The mouse couldn't stand
Not to have the man's hand
Stroke the fur on his back
Or squeak at the dog
Who lay there like a log
And looked like a large brown sack,

When things seemed their worst
And the chair seemed cursed
Came a quake that shook his small room.
A noise came to follow
That caused him to swallow
And freeze in his tracks by the broom.

In the late evening light
Came an amazing sight
Two children there on his chair.
Laughing and shouting
His eyes never doubting
In amazement, "Just look at that pair."

A girl and a boy
Laughing for joy
Both about three feet tall.
It made the mouse glad
And then made him sad
That the master had missed it all.

The kids spotted him there
As he crept by the stair
To the chair and up to his room.
His little heart patting
And the kids outside chatting
This certainly could spell his doom.

The youngsters were pushin'
Up that old cushion
And now for the whole world to see
The poor little mouse
In his poor little house
Just as frightened as a mouse can be.

The kids drew closer
And picked up the coaster
That served as the mouse's small table.
On it they put steak
And some fresh chocolate cake
And pasted a very small label.

With the greatest of care
They sat table in chair
And looked the little house over.
The small label said,
"This is Our Ned,"
And they threw in a few sprigs of clover.

"Grandpa asked us to care
for the mouse in the chair.
Don't fret and don't feel concern.
We'll bring you some food
And try not to be rude
But Grandpa can never return

"He mentioned your name
And said, no one's to blame,
Friends must sometimes part
But a friend who is dear
Is always quite near
In a large or very small heart."

The little mouse cried
But felt good inside
That the master had loved him so much
And after Ned's gone
It wont be so long
'Til he feels his master's touch.

~Robert E. Browne~

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