Philip Mygatt Poet Rhyme

A Young Boy's Scary Walk Through a Dark Woods At Night

Although I’m late, my pace is slow
The woods are dark, my path to go.
Each sound, a host of unseen brutes
That lurk amongst the tangled roots
Of trees that line my pitch-black route.
I want to scream, I want to shout
And yet a light, though faint ahead
A beacon to my waiting bed
Soon steps through welcome bolstered door
Assure me that I’m safe once more

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