All That's Left

In the corner,

Of a lonely room,

Sat a mouse,

In solemn gloom.

He ate three bites,

Of moldy cheese;

Scratched his ear,

He had some fleas.

Then the cobwebs quivered,

As a buzzing fly died;

The spider sauntered out,

There was no need to hide.

In this shell of a house,

No family to speak of...

Fluttered soft, a moth,

It's supper a glove.

Tidbits of life,

Left alone in the dark;

No one to remember,

But these creatures, stark.