Creeping into the dead of silence
In the chalet of no sheen
Sounds heard of only my footsteps diving into trundles
Did the master really aim to be mean?
Stretching towards the knob
Utterly baffled of the coming ulterior's sight
Abruptly, when wide the door bobs, into the dorm
My eyes bathe the only light
A flush of alacrity guides me towards the spark
Holding my fingers inches close to the candle
Brushed across my mind, the thought mark:
"Where was the one who caused this scandal?"
The slow contact flooded me with warmth
Simultaneously appeared the predator behind his prey
Not a muscle could I move under the fathom
Instantly, the hogan swam, illuminated,with glowing sunlight
And so, sang my predator: Happy birthday!
I blew the candle on my cake
'Mean' was not the master's description
My predator, for this day, was merely keen
But I should say, that this should not revive- no, for heaven's sake!