a birthday poem…

poetry

The monsters wake upon this day

To crawl out of their graves

To shamble forth from fetid bogs

And slither out of caves

They fly from fright’ning mountain tops

Out of their wicked lairs

They peek between the closet doors

And shamble up the stairs

With sharpened fangs and dripping claws

They bear their frightful gifts

A bunch of skulls, a clutch of bones,

Some fingers, toes and ribs

At once they bow to you, my dear

The Queen of Halloween

The fairest ruler of the night

The world has ever seen