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. 

 

 

 

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