Swing

On a cold autumn night there rests a creepy cute thing.
To some, sheer horror it will bring.
For when it’s stomach starts to sing
It transforms to take flight on its wing
And hunt for a morsel to bite and sting
Then toss away like a one-night fling
So it can focus on making a warm sling
And searching for a branch on which to cling
So they can snooze and their body may swing.

© 2020 CREEPEACHY ∙ REBECCA PETRO ∙ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED