Terror 2 Poem by Mary Champion

He lurks behind the curtains when it's dark,
his feet snap twigs behind you in the park,
he's waiting in the shadows down the street,
you glimpse him and your heart will skip a beat.
His presence is a threat to everyone -
Beware! Beware the Jabberwock, my son.

He hides beneath your bed when you're asleep,
you'd see him if you only dared to peep.
But you pull the blankets up above your head
and fight against the rising tide of dread.
You can't be certain - don't trust anyone -
Beware! Beware the Jabberwock, my son.

He's waiting there behind the bathroom door -
at least, he might be, and you can't be sure.
He's perched outside your window on the sill.
You know that he's around - you feel the chill,
but jelly legs don't have the strength to run.
Beware! Beware the Jabberwock, my son.

You feel his breath like ice upon your cheek,
you try to cry out, but you cannot speak.
This time there's no escape, he's closing in.
His freezing fingers crawl across your skin.
You're cornered now, there's nothing to be done -
Beware! Beware the Jabberwock, my son.