I wander round the house barefoot,
And often, late at night,
Because I see sufficiently
I don’t put on the light.
But as the darker nights draw in
And summer turns to fall,
I’m having to beware
The lurking monsters in the hall.
Thanks to the dog’s propensity
For garden centred fun,
The back door stands wide open
Even when the day is done.
There’s black and shiny beetles,
Moths and then a slug or two,
Who leave trace of their passage
With a silver trail of goo.
There’s spiders, big as dinosaurs,
The rare, intrepid frog,
Whose unexpected presence
Really scared the daft small dog.
We’ve had a bird or two fly in,
But only in the day,
And they just look around a bit
Then up and fly away.
My problem is, I do not wish
To meet a stealthy guest,
Barefooted in the dead of night,
As I go to my rest.
Such intimate acquaintance
Means that I must now equip us
With working lightbulbs in the hall…
Or repossess my slippers!