Through your window, the puffed up clouds

And sun drizzled fields are beckoning poetic verse to be written. 

Behind you, a gentle scratching sound distracts

But you don't turn. 

It's probably that sneaky, little dormouse that sometimes visits

Yes, that's what it'll be

And yet...

...Is something staring?

Something glaring?

Slyly peeping

Slowly ...

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Come sit atop my bed of bones

With crimson hue

And darkened tones

Discard your flesh

Come join the rabble

For ecstasy waits

For those who dabble

I've cleared a space

Atop my bed

To lay your bones

When you are dead

I'll pick them clean

And hold them dear

Just so you know

'Tis only I to fear! 

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