A Thing of Fearing


girl in forest.jpg


A beast of claws and whispers

In the forest waited there,

And reached its jaws to kiss her

And it grasped her golden hair.


Yet it was a thing of fearing,

But a shaded whisperer.

It was only willows, leering:

And it was no match for her.




Short little nursery rhyme: most monsters are imaginary, just shadows under the trees. And they are no match for us.