An Alien In Autumn
Autumn brought its early cold nip in the sitting room,
Father’s spirit was down, a shot of whisky helped.
Mother thought it was time to set up the fireplace.
In came the alien with pointed ears, strange dress and all.
An ugly gun was in his hand, as the clock struck nine.
“All submit to my powers,” the mighty alien cried.
Mother smiled and elevated him to bed.
“Time to sleep, Mr. Spock. Your Enterprise will come tomorrow!”
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