Monday, August 15, 2016

ON MY SHELF





Who sits on my shelf
each and every night?
Who casts long shadows
on my shelf and wall?
Not there at day
but only at night.
I move closer.
I must see what it is.
A hooded figure,
its face lifting to me.
The hood falls back
to a face as dark as night.
Eyes shine red,
burning a hole right through me.

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