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Poem

One night as I was trying to fall asleep,
getting all comfy underneath the cotton sheets,
all's I could hear was the ticking of my clock,
everyone asleep except for me in my pajama frock,

Tossing and turning was the usual routine,
like a dog going in circles till he runs out of energy,
my pillow getting the usual pounding and fluffing,
hearing a distant sound that was rather muffled,

It was like a distant sound that was animated,
like a soft rustling part of my blanket was getting invaded,
hearing the sound of little marching feet getting closer,
I could feel my heart pounding and my forehead getting moister,

But then the marching was too close and I didn't have a choice,
so I turned on the light to see what was making the noise,
staring at horror at the three inch centipede on my blanket,
it was a situation where I didn't want to end up being a banquet,

So I bravely threw the centipede across my room,
not sure where it landed and wishing I had a broom,
searching high and low for its carcass,
looking at every square inch in my carpet,

To this day I don't know where the little bugger went,
but the rest of that night I thought possibly the floor vent,
which I closed up just in case he decided to come back,
not sleeping a wink becoming a sentry in my sack.

2-22-17

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