It sat there,
Perched upon its chair,
And tried to make a lunge at me,
I backed with sudden care.
It hissed like a cobra,
Its claws struck my limb,
I grabbed a limp umbrella,
Its face was one of sin.
It jumped out the window,
It landed with a thud,
Whilst my arm pumped blood.
Eyes gleaming in the dark,
The creature had left its mark.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You must be a right weird fella to have there a limp umbrella! -chuck