The Searcher

It was down by the church;
Walking in the dark under the moon.
In this small ghostly town it lurks;
Is it going to strike later or much too soon?
It breathes a deep, deep breath;
Looking for a victim to stike.
Will find nothing in this town of death;
But still looking and searching and the like.
It heard a sound from down the street away;
It turned its head to trace the sound.
It began walking then stopped in delay;
The sound came again at the corner and around.
As it neared its prey it moaned a low, low groan;
Peered around the corner and took a deep, deep breath.
There was something there all-alone;
That scared the searcher to death.

by Jac Lofft

Other poems of JAC LOFFT (2)

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