Goblins

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.