in trembling terror,
i retreat
to thundr’ing sound
of vicious feet,
and shaking softly,
on the ground,
my ears are tuned
to slightest sound…

his breath draws nearer,
nearer still
my poor heart trembles
against my will
and through and through,
i must strive
if I’m to face
this threat so wild…

he sneaks and creeps
through greyish tile
and pauses softly,
for a while
at the threshold
of the door
where rationed breath
builds up his roar…

my tiny son,
so soft and sweet
has walked the walk
and worn the feet
of ancient monsters,
all the more,
my small and hopeful

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