When my sister and I nearly died of fright.
We were up in the treehouse, reading our books,
Passing silent smiles, or exchanging strange looks.
When out from the grass patch near the old elm,
Came out a roar from some supernatural realm.
I spied out the window of our house in the tree,
And I saw something that I'd never again see.
Something humongous had emerged in the patch,
With glowing red eyes, and fangs to match.
Its murderous eyes had the look that could kill,
We crouched in a corner, incredibly still.
We could hear the monster stomp in the yard,
As we heard it, I was on my guard.
The monster smelled us, it rushed to our tree,
This was terrifying, you'll surely agree.
I looked into the monster's burning eyes,
I sensed that this was the moment of my demise.
A shotgun, a cannon or a normal sword,
Could save me from getting completely gored.
But no weapon lay within my reach,
As the monster came near, my sister did screech.
I grabbed a rubberband from my sister's hair,
And aimed where the monster's eye was there.
It hit perfectly; the monster was beat.
It demonstrated a hasty retreat.
But the monster dropped something as it ran away,
A tiny dagger, silvery-grey.
This memento still lies there, upon the shelf,
Too small for a fairy, or even an elf.
No comments:
Post a Comment