On a cold Autumn night,
Simon the Mouse lost much.
His house had burned down
leaving nothing but ash.
The village alarm
brought all to its center.
“We can’t let him suffer,”
they cried out as one.
Before they could solve
this painful dilemma,
friend, Owl the Wise,
swooped down to save them.
He could not bear to watch
them struggle with this.
“You must make this Mouse
his own brand new house!”
They couldn’t argue
so promptly agreed.
Mr. Owl took charge
with his deep smooth voice,
“No need to hassle
with making a plan.
You each have a home,
and he has got none.
He should have some
or at least just one.
Now all of you all,
bring one of your walls.”
Wisely he spoke
not asking too much,
so they all raced off
to dismantle homes.
With little time passing,
the mice had returned
with buckets of nails
and boards of all sizes.
“Put them together.
It won’t take forever.
Some wood over here,
yes, bring it all near.
It has to be grand
as a big apple stand!”
So construct it they did,
in a hurry as one.
They lifted their boards,
held them and hammered.
Together they made
something just like a home.
They gathered the scraps,
enough for three more,
looked to each other
and tossed them all out.
Though weak and drafty,
that Mouse had a house.
“Three cheers for Owl!
He’s saved us again!”
They danced, and they laughed,
but their joy didn’t last,
seeing each his home,
now cold and undone.
Tomorrow, in daylight
they could fix their own.
In the dark and alone,
one sad little mouse
had a thought for the town,
but voice it he didn’t.
“Could we not just have built
him a new one from scratch?”
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