Poems ✍️

Each computer is home to a mouse.
And the mouse shares the owner's own house.
If the mouse were a cat
with long claws and all that
she'd compete with the master's dear spouse.
How is that, you ask, what would a kitten
whether, loyal or hostile or smitten
have that housewives would lack
It's when pussies attack
the old trousermouse surely gets bitten.
I suggest we all switch to the sprew,
he would sleep in a child's smallest shoe.
And for gremlins inside
you could tell your sweet bride:
this small sprew is a clue just for you.