How big a shadow does a monster need to be to hide in? Just curious, you know....
The monster in the shadows The little house in the forest is quiet, Flowers grow outside the door, A pig is silent in the back garden, And dirty footprints mar the hall floor.
The child approaches and walks inside Carrying a basket that's clearly not light. "Grandma, oh grandma, what bright eyes!" "Well child, come in, you're a welcome sight."
The curtains are drawn and the room smells musty, Shadows recline against the walls. The bed and the table are terribly dusty And under the bed something malevolent crawls.
"Grandma, oh grandma, you're so hard to see!" "Child, I've been ill; I'm just skin and bone." "Well grandma, I've brought you jam, cream and tea." "Sit child, and pretend you're at home."
Once the child is seated the shadows converge And Grandma gets up from the bed She looks like she's been on a seven-day purge And might even already be dead.
The child's face changes, growing longer and thinner, Hunger, near famine, is plain. But Grandma would make for a terrible dinner So the monster goes quiet once again.
They sit in the shadows and eat jam, cream and scones, Drinking tea and discussing the dying. Then the monster departs, and once it is gone, Grandma returns to her lying.
2 comments:
How big a shadow does a monster need to be to hide in? Just curious, you know....
The monster in the shadows
The little house in the forest is quiet,
Flowers grow outside the door,
A pig is silent in the back garden,
And dirty footprints mar the hall floor.
The child approaches and walks inside
Carrying a basket that's clearly not light.
"Grandma, oh grandma, what bright eyes!"
"Well child, come in, you're a welcome sight."
The curtains are drawn and the room smells musty,
Shadows recline against the walls.
The bed and the table are terribly dusty
And under the bed something malevolent crawls.
"Grandma, oh grandma, you're so hard to see!"
"Child, I've been ill; I'm just skin and bone."
"Well grandma, I've brought you jam, cream and tea."
"Sit child, and pretend you're at home."
Once the child is seated the shadows converge
And Grandma gets up from the bed
She looks like she's been on a seven-day purge
And might even already be dead.
The child's face changes, growing longer and thinner,
Hunger, near famine, is plain.
But Grandma would make for a terrible dinner
So the monster goes quiet once again.
They sit in the shadows and eat jam, cream and scones,
Drinking tea and discussing the dying.
Then the monster departs, and once it is gone,
Grandma returns to her lying.
Greg - depends on the size of the monster, I suppose.
This went for a wild ride, which I highly enjoyed. I see you went on a bit of a poetry kick in my commenting absence, and I am liking it.
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