The Creeper Poem by John I Nash

While I sleep, in my sleep, up the stairs it creeps.
Step by step coming closer yet.
Down the hall in the fog of it all, , ever so quietly, not to be see or heard.
Upon the door it hears my snore, turning the knob softly.
In my room comes the creeper ever deeper.
Now on all fours it hides behind the foot board. Exposed but a minute, it crawls along the side trying to hide.
Blue eyes ablaze it sneaks a gaze at its sleeping quarry.
Sinister grin on its chin, the creeper rises from the floor and pounces on the bed in all its dread. Fierce face made, hands stretched out as claws, I gave awakened pause to see, as it growled,
'Grandpa I want to play! I reply with a smile Shelby we will play this day you and I.