Your Silence

As if a stealthy hunter, or its prey,

you measured ev’ry utterance as though

the slightest indication would betray

your sheer and wav’ring outline to your foe

before the pounce, and scamp’ring late or soon,

the care and silence would have been for naught.

Were you the cat or mouse? Was I a boon

or curse, my lucky penny after thought?

Of seven words you spoke, but one was, “Mew.”

Did you think twice and call off the attack?

Was I the roaring lion, or the shrew?

Would you have struck if I had turned my back?

I think the other word you said was, “Please.”

In retrospect, it brought me to my knees.