The Midnight Visitor
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I lay there sad and teary
Like so many other celibate nights that had come my way before
Suddenly I heard a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
‘Tis some wretched wrathful person, I reasoned deep within my core. Only this, and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember, as I lay in deep surrender, pondering my painful chore.
Could it be that beauteous Lilly, who has come to slap me silly, clearly not my uncle Willy
rapping at my chamber door. She has come to knock me senseless, over which I am defenseless,
having written of her offenses committed on my chamber floor. Yes, it’s the beauty known as Lilly, vengeful at my chamber door. Only this, and nothing more.
Perhaps she’s here to raise a chalice, not unlike her sister Alice, willing with no hint of malice; oh those nights upon the floor. When we heaved and huffed and panted, ever blissful so enchanted, gleefully we raged unpanted, those delicious nights of yore. Here again to thus explore, enchanting times upon the floor. Only this, and nothing more.
Back inside my chamber turning, hot desires within me burning, like a batch of butter churning, I must open up that door. Soon again I heard a rumble that was louder than before. It began with mournful singing, like a bell so softly ringing, and intermittently it was pinging, pinging there outside my door. What a ruckus she was making as I stood there quaking, shaking could this be trouble in the making? My feet were firmly on the floor. Only this, and nothing more.
Silently I lit a candle slipped into my well-worn sandals, then I bravely grasped the handle, the one attached to my chamber door. With a mighty fling I flung that door, and standing there not as before, was someone new to my boudoir. She looked at me with squinty eyes, not the kind I idolize, more like King Kong in disguise as she lumbered past my door. There was a little wiggle to her waggle, like a goose without a gaggle, but I was in no mood to haggle, as she moved with some amour. Only this, and nothing more.
She seemed to know her way around, as she moved without a sound, sniffing like an old bloodhound as she slid across my floor. Suddenly she stopped and swirled, then her robe fell and unfurled, showing me a whole new world, like one I’d never seen before. In her hands were pen and pad, and the only thing I had, to defend against her bad, were words I’d never used before. She said her keyboard keys were stuck, and her pucker wouldn’t puck, could I get them all unstuck? if I wasn’t such schmuck, I’d have said she was out of luck, much like that raven perched high above my door. I looked straight into her peepers, into weepers that were keepers and I whispered firmly as I never had before: “Maybe once, but never more!”
Ron
Funny, with carefully set up midnight mood
and logic (kept me on my toes, with one moment,
wardrobe malfunction, off balance), and investigation
skills into slowly unlocking truth about reasons,
intentions of your ghostly mystery writer,....hoped
we find out the truth... who might have killed Poe.
Bravo!
Your pen is a magic wand indeed.
Bravo.
John