Curiosity Killed the Cat
By Grace Pringle
Curiosity, they say, killed the cat, but I would beg to disagree,
I have seen the birth of curiosity and it is life to me.
As I walk and as I talk, I see it wishing it were free,
In the “I wonder…” and the “what?” and the “could it be’s?”
The mystery, the intrigue, I must know!
What’s in this cave? Where does this stream flow?
What’s he doing? Where did he go?
Oh, not knowing vexes me so!
How it whispers how it taunts, always demanding what it wants.
When ignored, when resisted, it lingers and it haunts
The sensible thoughts, the best talks, and jaunts.
Perhaps I should be weary of curiosity’s pitfalls,
The effects might be meddlesome and disastrous after all.
But oh! Seeing and not knowing is hard on the eyes.
And now I know why cats have nine lives.