Just because I can write poems!

Hounded by the driving rain
Came a storm that was rather lame.
It snowed purple snow
And made the wind gust and blow.

When the storm was over head
A dark, misty gloom came upon my bed.
Images of twilight and a spider's web
Darkened my mind enough to drown my fears
Of tomorrow night when I'll be shouting beers.

Oh, woe to those that ate my pies.
Woe to those who look up into the skies.
For on this day shall come a ghost
And haunt you like it is your host.

Fear not for the ghost shall pass
Along with another night of school class.
But when it comes to feeding bread
To those who come to mourn the death of Christ
They shall be thrown out on their head
In amidst the fury of the heist.

By Shirley Hardy