Part Three: Strangers from afar
One sunny day in early spring
Monty heard his mobile ring.
Half asleep and still abed,
He answered, and a small voice said:
“Have you room for any more?
They’ve just arrived and very poor.
They came ashore not long ago;
They seem quite lost and spirits low:
They stowed away, and truth to tell,
Their life before was likely hell.
From foreign parts where just one squeak
Could be the end, for rodents meek.”
So here they came to seek some aid,
Mekka Mouse and his fair maid.
Medina was her name it seemed,
Behind her veil, her eyes, they beamed.
Monty was the perfect host,
He offered tea and cheese on toast.
He viewed the couple, dark brown fur,
Mekka, dark and lots of hair,
Medina, small and more demure
Hesitant and quite unsure.
Clad in sacks from head to toe,
She barely spoke but bowed quite low
She seemed unsure of how to act,
And Mekka was the boss, in fact.
A few months on and still yet they stayed
To Monty, progress had been made,
Medina bloomed and shed her sack;
Her hair was wavy, shiny black.
Mekka spent some time in prayer
But that was neither here nor there.
He pulled his weight and joined the rest:
An asset to this cosy nest.