Thursday, 25 June 2015


There are goblins outside,
They sit and stare.
They glare through the windows,
Mock me from the garden,
And leave the greasy imprints of wrinkled noses on the glass.

I know all their names;
Embarrassment dances on the lawn,
Fear hides in the bushes,
Despair dangles from the washing line,
Loneliness sit by himself in a flowerpot, weeping.

There comes a time when you realise
You can't let the goblins keep you inside,
Isolated from the world.
So, I open the door,
And set the cat on them.

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