Catch Your Death: III

“Catch your death. Catch your death”
Too soon to depart
“Catch your death. Catch your death,
So where do we start?”

The ground gave a moan and a
grumble so small
as the fingers were dragged, screeching
‘cross the thin, papered wall.

A shriek and whistle
punctured the still air.
She leapt to the table
with flames in loose hair.

All now mesmerised,
buckled with fear,
despair as, the spines and
ravenous claws appear.

“Catch your death. Catch your death”
I am your venerable son.
“Catch your death. Catch your death,
the battle of spirit is won.”

With a vile laugh and cackle
the head rolls back hard,
the noise simply dies
all eyes wide and scarred.

A whisper emerges,
so battered and bruised.
“So now now children,
which one of you should I choose?”

#365DaysOfPoetry

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