The bat oversees the entire village,
Blindly, wildly reaching for berries.
Down below, by a couple's cottage,
No one knows a legend's flying.
He had terrified many into pilgrimage—
Made them stock their flock with crosses;
Unknowingly rocked capes now vintage
Years before this very hunt had happened.
This flight led to a colorful window-ledge,
Where a young lady was spotted within,
Staring, counting ticking seconds ahead
Of their unfortunate passing, it seems.
The bat snuck past her now-busy head,
Stretched out an arm, opened the fridge,
Took some berries and even some bread,
Fluffing pillows before she went to bed.
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Comments about this poem (Be Nothing, Be Gone by Edwin Cordero )
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