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Poem

Brooding, unlit and unkempt
A house that is daylight exempt
Sits three doors down from the park
Its doors and its windows are dark

Weekly a grocer arrives
Drops off a bag of supplies
The door opens not very wide
A hand pulls the shopping inside

Neighbours still say tongue in cheek 
That’s the highlight of the week
It’s what happens once every year 
That fills local children with fear

It shuffles out onto the street
With Wellington boots on its feet
A wizened old thing with a stoop
Its head doesn’t raise from a droop

It makes an incongruous sight
As it strolls looking not left nor right
In clothes dirty brown, who would think
It would tote a small coat that is pink

And just as the street lamps alight
Portending the coming of night
’tis said that he walks in the dark
To grab a young kid in the park

               *

And then at the lake his step doesn't break
He simply walks into the water
And as it gets colder the coat on his shoulder
He wraps ’round his long missing daughter 

               *

A brief but chilled wind whispers, ‘Daisy’
The lake’s surface mist rises hazy
The breeze hums along to a young girl’s song
But the old man and young girl are gone

Emerging from behind a hedge
Kids hurry up to the edge
The bravest one reaches to take
A little pink coat from the lake

          ***

It’s what happens once every year 
That fills local children with fear
It shuffles out onto the street
With Wellington boots on its feet
            _____



[Wellington boots = Rubber boots]

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