Don’t have nightmares
She was sat in the bath when the
Suds turned to blood, when the taps
Started pouring unspeakable Yuk!
When the soap dish cried out, ‘Look,
The showerhead’s grown fangs’ and
The bubbles were plagued by a wet
Severed hand.
A towel left the door where it hung
On a hook, it pranced and it danced
To the bath where it shook, where it
Bowed and it curtsied hem sweeping
The floor but when the lady reached
Out it flew back to the door.
The hour it was late and the time
Quite unknown, but the date she
Recalled had a three and a one.
A three and a one, a mystery for
Sure, but not to a witch out to
Settle a score.
The girls had been rivals since school
So they say, one was unruly the other
A saint. They fell out one autumn
When the temperauture dropped, the
Saint got the boy, the witch got the
Chop.
© Joseph G Dawson
24/10/2018
