I looked out through my window pane.
And, there it was, the same, again.
A flying beast, a distant swooping.
It scared my heart, near enough to pooping!
Closer still, and closer more.
It flapped it's spiney wings of yore.
The tome upon my desk lay open,
The source of woe, of which I was certain.
A way to banish, I was hoping.
Too late, too late, the window breaking.
My blood, gods, my blood, the things thirst slaking........
Poem copyright Tamara Wilding 2015
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