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The Sitter
The Sitter
There it is
Sitting in the old wicker chair
Grinning its foul slavering grin
It moves nothing than its face.
Every night it appears
Until waking and shaking
I reach for the pull light string
It then evaporates at pace.
I will take the chair back
With its eviction will go the glob
Never more to appear
With its evil sneer
Its cynical jeer
I will not fail in the execution of the job
I will not ever again fall into the snare
Of buying an antique second hand chair!
Copyright ©
Janine Lever
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