Convict in the loft
Johnclarestokes
It evokes a few lines of prose in me
That old wood and tin I once knew
In the cool dark sand among the relics
Sun light glaring in between the cracks
Sounds in the rafters would startle
In reality but a corn snake after the mouse
To me the escaped convict hiding out
And I’d quietly creak up the clasp
Scurry into the kitchen beside grandma
She’d glance down from the stirring, say,
“Why boy, you look as if you’ve seen a ghost!”
I didn’t venture much into the dark din
Every now and then I’d bravely peer in
Listen for the rustling from the rafters
Never told the Sheriff I knew where the
convict was they were after
Free to this day in the shadows hiding out.
No comments:
Post a Comment