David Hines (hradzka) wrote,
David Hines

APED: "the exile"

You've left home since I've known you just a quiet man and plain
and you've come home just the same again each night.
But something must have happened, and it must have been quite strange:
you're trembling and your face is ghastly white.
You slammed the door behind you, shut the bolt and fixed the lock,
and after that you barred it with a chair.
And you're peering through the window now, although the night is dark,
as if something could be lurking anywhere.

For things can happen in the woods, and it really isn't strange
for an ordinary man to disappear.
The times are moving forward, yes, but some things never change.
That's the risk you take when you live way out here.
And the shadows only lengthen, and your terror only strengthens,
and your doom is coming near --
your panic wasn't wrong, for you've known it all along:
you've always been so very right to fear.

You think you weren't followed? Does that mean you were pursued?
I'll listen closely while you tell the tale.
This terror that you evidence is something very new.
So tell us what you saw along the trail.
There was a little carriage that was done all up in black,
but for a golden crown along the side,
small enough to be a toy, but regal for all that.
You felt a sudden gripping urge to hide.

For things can happen in the woods, &c.

And just before the carriage, harnessed, pulling it along,
were mice and rats being cruelly used as slaves,
and fierce black cats as mourners, trailing, wailing eerie song,
that made you feel someone had walked your grave.
And that's when you were spotted, and they turned and struck as one,
and it was sheer luck that you made it home alive.
And your frightened heart still hammers now, although your race is won,
for fear they might be lurking yet outside.

For things can happen in the woods, &c.

But you've made it safely home, and now that we're alone,
you've shared the tale with just the wife and me.
And I thank you for this information. For my exile's done:
The tale that you've just told has set me free.
The king is dead, that false pretender! Now's my time to strike!
But they can't know where I've been, and that's --
well, I liked the cream and petting, yes, but blood bathes every reich.
And now, my master, I'M THE KING OF CATS.

For things can happen in the woods, &c.
Tags: a poem every day

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