The great black owl prepares to fly
Invisible against the three O’ clock sky
He releases his old and evil cry
And the animals
beneath know that one of them must die.
All the little critters scatter
You hear a patter pitter, pitter patter
It makes quite a loud flamboyant clatter
In the knowing that only one of them will splatter.
There is a pale elderly mouse
Standing next to the frail Victorian house
Who just had its luck run way down south
Because it is deaf and couldn’t hear the old and evil cry
And as the pale old mouse went a-splatter
Nothing was the sadder
Because you and the mice alike
Knew that it didn’t really matter.
Read more: http: //authspot.com/poetry/it-doesnt-really-matter-under-the-three-oclock-sky/#ixzz0mQ8ylR5t
Jon Cooper
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/it-doesnt-really-matter-under-a-three-o-clock-sky/
