TO BE CONTINUED…

She knocked on my front door,

that wicked, wicked child

who screams at her mother

and often goes quite wild.

She knocked on my front door,

and then she rang the bell.

She was a bit impatient,

insistent, I could tell.

I stomped across the living room

so she could hear me coming;

opened the door just a crack,

to not appear too welcoming.

“Hi there, ” said I

as I surveyed her face.

She looked at me with huge dark eyes,

no smile…

TO BE CONTINUED…NEEDS A LOT OF WORK

dd