There is this monster in my garden, the kind that eats my newly sowed seeds. I hide and hide away from it, not knowing where it will next feed.
There is a monster in my garden, it has one eye and tiny feet. It’s furry face has no disgrace and a nose that can smell from miles away the little girls in the schoolyard.
There is a monster in my garden, it scratches its belly while it walks around in squares. It speaks in barely syllables and slurps away its dribbling snot.
There is a monster in my garden, it roars its way to sleep. It pulls out my baby daffodils and throws it in the corner fence. It picks up all the torn petals and makes it into a bed.
I look at the monster in my garden, it has this little scar. The one not like Harry Potter but definitely the one that causes sparks.
I feel for the monster in my garden, He dreams in silent melodies. And always has His arms arched in mid air while he sleeps.
I asked the monster in my garden, “what happened to Her?” His single eye hidden in the furry face slowly opened behind all disguise, a small tiny tear dropped in the world’s surprise.
My monster in the garden, is this classic case of wine; He gave His heart to a passing Her but unfortunately went on passing by.
All day he walks around this garden, hiding behind the fence; always waiting for that moment to repeat as he persistently denies His defeat.
One day I will find that monster who will pass by this garden, I shall grab Her psycho hair. I’ll twist it into mental braids and threaten to cook her like meat.