Can you help with a title for this poem that doesn't give away the ending?

they scurry at night

i hear them

not real footsteps just

faint scrabbling sounds

on low pile carpets

they hide from me

somewhere under the furniture

unseen

i see movement

out of the corner of my eye

was it them or just

a twitch of the dog's tail

i don't see anything now

and the dog is

nowhere in sight

imagined

quiet nights i could swear

i hear giggles

from under the recliner

where i am reading

i stop to listen

was it imagined

or is it them mocking me

nothing

they escape all efforts

at detection

but i know they are there

those minutes of life

that add up to hours

then days and then years

they are the last ones left

escaping