Good Times?

prttybrd Poems

Slithering serpents, midnight chills The shadows twist and bend at will The hall is growing longer still The spinning sky Has heralded I've reached my fill A fool am I Instead of falling on the floor There was a chair beside the door I sat and smiled and begged for more And all seemed well Not knowing what it had in store I could not tell That floating feet beneath the mind Had chosen to be quite unkind And proved immensely hard to find That witching hour Scared that they'd be left behind Or worse, devoured Dragged with screams of desperation Sighs lined with exasperation Could not grasp the intonation Without my feet Doubled over there was elation At last we meet The wails, that proved I was insane, Crescendoed, through my thrashing brain This clearly was not my domain I found my shoes Only the truest friends remain Can't hold my *****