The Bogeyman
Soaking wet the grey sheep huddle
by the stone wall shaped and laid
to last five hundred more years still.
Rains sheeting o'er the moor leave
us dripping as the fish in Foley's Tarn.
Clouds careen across the sky like
ragged flags unfurling, our house is
battered by the storm's relentless wrath,
and something's coming...
It's nights like this that bring the creature
from the other side of time, misshapen
wretch with no measure of humanity,
dragging its loathsome body to our door.
Squelching abomination with dark sockets
for its eyes, a travesty of decency and grace.
Not marked in any almanac, no picture
of this beast save in the nightmares
of our child, who flies into his mother's
arms and trembles, trying to scrape
the ugly specter from his mind,
for he knows...
he can feel the slimy presence
hidden deep within the shadows
of the house. Is it living only in his
darkest fears? Once settled is he
free of fang and claw?
"Leave the light on, Mom!"
Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2009
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