The Blue-Grey Mouse

The day had dawned upon the land,

Staining the sky with pink.

The creatures started to awaken,

Thirsty for a drink.

The smallest animal of them all,

Scurries out of its hole.

With its fur like silk and its eyes like beads,

The blue-grey mouse on its morning stroll.

He scurries here and scurries there,

Searching for some food.

He hears a noise in the distance,

And stops, his eyes glued.

On the farmer starting the tractor,

The noise shattering the peace.

With the fumes of smoke and the deadly wheels,

The machine, covered in grease.

The animals flee as the tractor approaches,

Driven by the farmer, steel beast underhand,

The farmer who cannot see,

The now animal-abandoned land.