Last week I discovered a book of Rachael Muirhead original poems from the mid to late 1990s. Most are angst-ridden, exaggerated nonsense about drugs I had never taken and love I had never felt.
This Roald-Dahl-esque one made me laugh. It's called "Listen".
Listen
What do you hear?
Your heart thumping loudly
Shaking with fear.
Listen
What was that sound?
Approaching footsteps
On the ground.
Listen
What could it be?
A burglar? A monster?
Open your eyes, see.
Look
It's just Uncle Fred.
Now go back to sleep.
Wait - isn't Fred dead?
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