TELL ME

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TELL ME

Hug me.

Kiss me.

Tell me you love me.

Squeeze me.

Touch me.

Tell me you won’t leave me.

Caress me.

Nuzzle me.

Tell me you want me.

Bite me.

Bleed me.

Tell me you’re a vampire.

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GRIM REAPER

 

 

Grim reaper stands over me,

Where The Dead have come to be.

Blood won’t be my drink of choice,

Not if I have any voice.

I will go down with a fight.

I refuse to take a bite.

No bloodthirsty demon down here.

No reason to have any fear.

THE DEAD GAME

 

 

TIME TO SLEEP

Time to sleep

 

TIME TO SLEEP

 

Hello, it’s just me,

Sitting in the dark.

I’m fun as can be,

A day at the park.

 

I’m here when you sleep.

I’m your worst nightmare.

Do you see that creep

Climbing up your hair?

 

It’s a big spider,

Black and so furry.

Just don’t roll over

Or you’ll see blurry.

 

Did he bite your neck?

I can see the mark.

Just a little peck.

Enough to go dark.

 

TIME TO SLEEP

A BORING AFTERNOON AT THE PET STORE

babyanimalposts:
 
     A BORING AFTERNOON AT THE PET STORE

     A boring afternoon at the pet store.
     “What to do? What to do?”
     The white cat pondered to herself.
     The only movement in the store
     was an annoying fly.
     It flew round and round the store.
     As if looking for the perfect spot to land.
     The four kittens followed the fly with their eyes.
     In fact, they couldn’t keep their eyes off of him.
     The fly was black and furry.
     He also had some unusual yellow stripes down his back.
     The smallest cat wanted him for a new baby brother.
     The Tom cat wanted to swat the thing with his tail.
     The fly finally landed.
     On the Tom cat’s nose.
     “Ouch,” Tom cat screamed out.
     “He bit me!” He said while rubbing his nose.
     Fluffy, the big white cat, ran over to big Tom.
     She said,”He didn’t bite you but stung you.”
     “Oh no! Oh no! What should I do?”
     Tom began to run around in circles.
     The white cat moved closer to look at his nose.
     “It’s fine. If it swells, we’ll put ice on it. It looks better
     than the poor fly.”
     The four cats looked down at the fly lying on the ground.
     “He gave his life so he could sting you,” Fluffy said. 
     “But why would he do that?” Tom looked confused.
      “It’s the way of life,” Fluffy said in a sad voice.
      “I know! We should bury him with a service and all.”
      The little voice came from the youngest kitten.
      They all agreed with him.
      Not having a yard for a burial, they wrapped the fly
      in a tissue and were going to flush him down the toilet.
      But first, the youngest, Squeaky, said a few words.
      Squeaky was sad that the fly didn’t even have a name.
      “Let’s call him Mr. Bee,” Fluffy suggested to the group.
      “Why? He was a fly.” Squeaky was upset.
      “No, my dear, he was a bee. And that is why he stung Tom.”
      Squeaky began to cry.
      After wiping his nose and eyes, Squeaky agreed to call
      him Mr. Bee.
      “Goodbye, Mr. Bee. We’re sorry we didn’t get to know you
      better. I hope you make friends in your new life.”
      With that said, Squeaky flushed the toilet and watched
      Mr. Bee float away to his new life.
      “Goodbye Mr. Bee,” Squeaky said. “We’ll miss you.”