A Cat, A Mouse, and A Dog That Never Howled at the Moon

She was born on a sultry night in June,

The air was so thick and hot, you know,

But the stars didn't glitter, though the night was clear

And the night-birds sang so heavy and slow

 

She grew up like a choir girl who lost her voice,

Who sings only a weak, wavering, warbling tune;

Like a lopsided game of cat-and-mouse,

And a dog who never howls at the moon

 

Like a mouse, she spoke, quiet and weak,

But she moved lithely, as a cat will do

And she never spoke up, or rebelled in her life;

She was a dog who never howled at the moon

 

Her eyes glittered, and she bit her words off,

Always stinging and hot, and sharp,

But she hid beyond and behind her cutting words,

In a permanent moonless dark

The End

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