I took it for a paper scrap

Upon the carpet's dull brown nap,

But bending forward I could see

It meant more than a scrap to me.

Diminished in death it was the mouse

That shared with me this ancient house

And which had often passed my way

An early morning blur of grey.

Then I recalled a recent night

When I had seen a slower flight...

Much slower than the previous run

In my lamplight's artificial sun.

Had that been a last goodbye

Meant to meet this watcher's eye?

Aware of the encroaching dark and cold

As a little lifetime lost its hold.

...........................................................