Once there were four nice mice
On their search for some rice
They searched for it in their own way
Chewing and nibbling the sacks all day

Let's speak of one, stout as a bull
Wanted his share i.e. the full
Sack of rice for him to eat
But gave a call when time for a treat

Then came the next, quick as a hare
Jumping all the way to share
His part of loot his kind of prey
But left before they could even say

Then came the one, who had laid the hunt
He made the plan without a grunt
He led the way, helping them all
He took the care that no one would fall

Then came the quietest of them
Staying away from the mayhem
He was not stout, nor was he tall
But he was the brightest of them all

At the hunting ground, the four mice met
But sadly, they could not see the bait
The trap was laid the prey was in
The sack was empty from within



The Story Behind

I dedicate this poem to four good friends of mine. Each stanza describes each of my four friends.

The last stanza is hypothetical. It talks about what 'could' happen.