Almost Poem by Micron Jan

Soft paws press the silent floor,
Whiskers twitch—she waits for more.
Golden eyes, a narrowed gleam,
Fixed upon a tiny scheme.

The mouse pauses, nose in air,
Unaware she's watched from there.
Tail low, body coiled and tight,
The cat prepares for sudden flight.

A flash, a leap, a flying blur—
Too soon, too fast, misjudged by her.
The mouse darts off, a streak of gray,
Between the cracks and far away.

The cat sits still, then cleans one paw,
As if to say she meant no war.
Another chance will surely come—
For now, the hunt remains undone.