Damned thing!

The spring!

I went to clean my mouse,

Unscrewed the louse;

One screw and I knew

I was in trouble.

Out sprang the spring

All over the house.

Bounced off the tweezers,

Sideways off the monitor,

Leeward of the keyboard

Where it rests, sullen.

And there it stays.

I canít see where it goes, no ways.

A small thing, this spring,

But not quintessential.

Instrumental not at all

It seems.

For lo! My computer works still

Without the thrill

Of spring

This May 2nd

Grey and cloudy

Sullen, dowdy

Like my mouse.

Spring-less.