Down the Salinas river, scurrying with mice,
The tranquility of nature intertwines with a shallow pool, smooth as velvet.
The sun descends over the Gabilan mountains, leaving only one thought,
Who deserves this beauty, not you nor I, but those practicing dreams.
Daylight has disappeared beyond the range now, leaving the valley quiet.
Darkness has approached silently, all the colors of the valley doused in a deathly sleep.

Lennie and George awake from their well-deserved sleep,
Lennie’s mind still running with thoughts of mice.
They begin to stride cautiously up the road, both remaining quiet.
The ranch boss was vexed with anger, his face flustered like a red swatch of velvet,
George and Lennie’s dilatory blamed upon the motorist, when truthfully it was dreams.
The day had wearied away, night approached, bringing new faces and thought.

Into the bunkhouse, many men came, and looked upon the new workers with thought.
They introduced themselves, hoping that a quicker acquaintance would lead to early sleep.
Curly and his wife originated in, they were the ones that made nightmares out of dreams.
Curly was a boxer, who made even the preponderant men feel small as mice.
His wife was another story, a tart with features soft and suant as velvet.
Lennie saw her to be gorgeous, but George coerced him to stand quiet.

The ranch was beautiful, vast with crops and characters, not a moment was quiet.
Days were long, nights were short, and the homesteads were always filled with thought.
Sunrise brought shades of oranges, reds, and yellows, running serene together as velvet.
Sunset created a medley of greens and blues, blunting noise into deep sleep.
Mellow nights were times to relax, and listen to the sounds of twigs broken by mice,
While the sounds of chirping crickets hypnotized the workers to rewarding dreams.

Nothing could be more tragic than someone’s broken dreams.
Lennie had killed Curly’s wife, leaving her body quiet.
The ranch had become laconic with despair, even silent were the mice.
Not a care in the world for the dead victim, only murderous thought.
Curly was destined to kill Lennie, lusting to force him into an eternal sleep.
His wife lay apathetic, gone from her eyes was the shimmer of velvet.

The shallow water that made the pool, was still smooth as velvet.
Lennie’s sanity was diluting with the materialism of his day dreams.
George crept up, but an eerie curiosity approached as he caused Lennie’s everlasting sleep
George’s world was empty now, filled with a bitter quiet.
His feelings were too abundant to process, his mind unable to produce thought.
The world was quiet now, no noise, disturbance, or even the minute sounds of mice.




Lennie was a man, slow of thought, only caring for soft things like mice or velvet.
George was a character full of thought, someone who was compelled to live his dreams.
With Lennie gone from George, his thoughts remain quiet, and his dreams can only exist in his sleep.