The Beast

A midsummer's day turned any old night,
Yet my wife, my wife was nowhere in sight.
Around the town I searched with frantic celerity,
Yearning for a glimpse of her blonde-haired gaeity.
Her friends, I spotted, her friends did say
That she went into the wood before cockcrow that day.

This wood, this wood were no ordinary wood;
Inside was a beast, over ten feet he stood.
Or so they had said, the survivors that could.
The survivors that escaped from that blasphemous wood.
I gathered my steel and clambered atop the balustrade
To broadcast and gather a mob for my trade.

-

It were a sleepy morning in my comfortable wood,
When along came a thing; pink, fleshy, and I stood
I stood up and waved as the fleshy things do,
But this one kept quiet for a second or two.

A second or two with my claws in the air,
Jiggling, jingling, and my teeth left abare.
I mimicked my best at what the fleshy things do,
But this one, this one made a loud noise, too,

Just like the rest of the pink fleshy things do.
The birds went a-flying and the deer went a-running,
But the sound, the sound, it just kept a-coming.
I did what I did to the many before,

And quieted that thing, forevermore.

Copyright © Andrew Travis | Year Posted 2018

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