*** C.B.***2 Wit***

Poem By Theodora (Theo) Onken

..........................He's In The House........................
.....................In The Attic Frozen Still.................
................Only Moves When He Has To...........
................Waiting To Get His Nasty Fill...........
...............I Hear Him From Time To Time........
............When The Cold Cracks His Base........
............And He Tries To Move His Arms.........
........................Just To Feel His Face.................
..And When We Are All In Bed Slumbering....
..........The Ghost-He Slinks Down The Stairs...
...............Pillages Our Kitchen For Food..............
..................Robbing Our Cupboards Bare................
.....................Sometimes He Leaves..........................
....................Out The Patio Door, He Goes...............
...................But Leaves The Stick Out In View..........
.........................Just To Let Us Know...........................
....................Its Harder For Him Now...........................
.....As The Bay Door Is Tighter Than Leather..........
........But He Manages To Still Slink Around..............
.............To Meet With His Birds of A Feather............
.............Now I Carry A Very Large Stick.....................
................And An Even Meaner Knife And Gun..........
........MESSAGE TO THE GHOST IN THE ATTIC.....
...The Days Coming-When You Are Totally Done.....

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And in the air t'was a melody of new loves sweet sound! ;

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