A Visit From...

As Dave watched in horror, the eyes closer drew.
He hadn't a notion of what he should do.
He looked up and down, and he looked West and East,
But each passing moment, his options decreased.

He closed his eyes tight, and he thought and he thought,
But those notions of doom, well, they couldn't be fought.
He took a deep breath and prepared for his fate,
When out of the darkness, a voice called, "Now, wait!"

The red eyes stopped moving; Dave let out a breath.
It seemed he'd been spared from a quite early death.
A rustle of leaves told him someone was near.
And then, from the gloom, a round man did appear.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.

His eyes — how they twinkled! His dimples — how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

Dave squinted hard as he took in this sight,
This red-clad, bearded man who emerged from the night.
The man looked perplexed, as if Dave ought to know 'im.
Then he looked 'round the scene and said, "Sorry. Wrong poem."

The man disappeared just as quick as he'd come,
Leaving Dave feeling nauseous, neglected, and numb.
The red eyes were moving now, pausing no longer,
And Dave... well, poor Dave wasn't feeling much stronger.

The End

138 comments about this poem Feed