Enid C. Grayer

I sit on the green kitchen chair
For hours on end,
Staring into space.
They look at me as if I´m crazy,
Wondering what´s going through my mind.
They ask, but I never answer.

I lay on the flowered bedspread
For hours on end,
Preening and primping.
I don´t need a mirror;
Every hair miraculously goes back into place.
Hair spray is not part of my repertoire.

I sit on top of the cabinets
For hours on end,
Waiting for the right moment.
I´m always disappointed,
Since the only mice here are attached to the computer.