The Cat Sat On The Mat Poem by Rory Hudson

A grey and rather dirty cat
sat on a rather grotty mat
watching a rather timid mouse
who’d made her home within the house.

“A boring scene, ” you’ll no doubt say,
“the kind you see most every day,
which in the scheme of things is naught,
as sages have forever taught.”

Yet to the mouse ‘twas not like that:
She saw a monstrous fearsome cat
who’d murder her and all her brood,
tearing them up for ready food.

The cat itself had to survive
on food whether dead or alive -
its instincts drove it to the kill
as part of some eternal will.

The mat had lain for many years
witness to many hopes and fears,
ignored by all, covered in dirt,
yet knowing how the world could hurt.

So next time someone tells you that
a cat is sitting on a mat
don’t shrug your shoulders and move on -
there’s something to reflect upon:

This world’s a game of cat and mouse,
taking place inside a house;
and you have built that house yourself
by seeking after worldly wealth.

You may do good, you may do ill,
but mice will scamper, cats will kill,
and mats inside the house will see
whatever fate will fall on thee.