The Little Cottage
She’s a pretty little cottage with a pretty picket fence
She snuggles in the forest where the trees grow tall and dense
A gravelled path runs by her so the mailman can deliver
But nothing gets delivered now, since something made him shiver
The pretty little cottage isn’t pretty all the time
Something happens anytime no sun nor moon does shine
It’s only meant to happen on those starless, moonless nights
When logic takes a hike and someone turns out all the lights
Only owls and bats and big eyed creatures get to see
What happens when this happens in low visibility
The ivy, bramble and the nettle overrun the walls
While cobwebs fill the window frames to tuneless, haunting calls
Inside in total darkness something dead and awful moans
But no one, once the sun goes down, should hear these ghoulish groans
Of course its true that in the daytime our sun never dips
But neither should the mailman come… during an eclipse
*
But no one really knows what happened on that dark, dark day
The quacks and all the analysts could never make him say
He muttered that he listened to the chorus of the lark
And then repeated these two words, “The dark, the dark, the dark!”
*
So when the light returns and all the weeds and cobwebs clear
And there’s no mailman there to tell you to what there is to fear
Then anyone who ventures through the trees so tall and dense
Will find a pretty cottage with a pretty picket fence.
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2023
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