Silver Bullets Poem by KENNETH FORDHAM

Wagons in a circle,
Campfires are blazing,
The night is so peaceful,
Tango music playing.

Gypsy Queen,
Oh passionate one,
Waiting for you to sing,
Or to dance us a lesson.

Children listening,
And paying close attention,
There is no squirming,
But total concentration

Thoughts are drifting,
Fables being told,
The night shifting,
Enjoyed by young and old.

Then comes the tale,
The scariest of all,
Wolves begin to wail,
Then a light snowfall.

He is the largest of beast,
Sharp teeth and hairy,
Looking for a feast,
You better be wary.

He chooses the one,
Most rich in young blood,
Waiting for the sun,
To see who is hunted.

Stay in the campsite,
When the clouds cover the moon,
It is the night of fright,
You may meet your doom.

He is as swift as can be,
No where to hide,
Not even in a tree,
Keep your cross by your side.

For the cross he fears,
Silver bullets too,
When he appears,
There’s nothing left to do.

Run and hide,
As fast as you can,
No time to decide,
He’s bigger than a man.

Heed my warning,
Stay in the camp,
Maybe by morning,
You can revamp.