A Poem for Dinner

It crawled and crawled and all I felt was a tickle.

It smiled and waved and all it said was a riddle.

I cried and wept and all it did was giggle.

I looked and searched but it no longer was. 

It was morning and bright, I suppose it hated those.  

I told my mum and dad about it when I felt it close, but they said I was going crazy for seeing something they thought was lost. 

Tomorrow night I’ll try to catch it, 

Mum said when it was alive it used to scratch it, the top of our ceiling now has a hole, the same it crawled out of the night before.

The more I write the more I lose my focus, I must stop procrastinating and hold on to my torches, I think sooner or later it’ll show up again and this time I’ll feed it fire and make it end.

If it just so happens that I don’t make it out alive, make sure to tell mama I was always right and if she ever doubts me again, I’ll show up to her bedroom half dead.

– Hey, d’you know happened to this house?

– Burnt down in 1968. 

– Really? What for?

– I think it was a house fire, a stove forgotten by a kid, you know the usuals. 

– You don’t say…and how do you know?

– Read about it, they say no one made it out alive…

– Why in the world was the kid cooking in the first place?

– Who knows. They say a paper was left in the scene, apparently all was burnt but that.

– What? What was it?

– I think the news said It was the recipe the kid was following. 

– That has to be a joke.

– Yeah, maybe, the news tends to spice things up sometimes, maybe it was just an old photo or something.

– Probably.