Story Time With Granny

Why can't my granny tell sweet fairy tales?

Story Time With Granny

I used to envy those kids with sweet granny’s.
Who’d spend summer’s lazing all day in their jammies.
They’d brag about evenings when story time came.
The yarns they would hear then, so happy and tame.

She’d rock in her chair with her knitting needles,
and paint happy tales with mermaids and seagulls.
The normal kids bragged that when they started to doze
She’d tuck them in tight from head down to toes.

Thing’s were quite different in my granny’s home.
I’d spend the days working my fingers to bone.
At evening’s arrival, fear had my heart drumming,
Wondering what gruesome fable was coming.

Her tales were so awful; the monsters so real,
Of misshapen demons searching to kill.
But the ones that I dreaded and hated the most,
Were of three-eyed aliens seeking children to roast.

Then one fateful day in search of a hammer,
I went to her barn and saw a Mars Lander.
Next I saw granny and gasped in surprise,
She was ripping off her old lady disguise.

She peeled off her face and three eyeballs popped out.
Those stories were true; I now had no doubt.
“I’m leaving for home now; my spaceships all packed.”
She said as she grabbed me, “but I’ll need a snack.”

Tina B

Line Count: 24
Prompt: Prompt: Use in a poem or story: A three-eyed alien, a mars Lander and a pair of knitting needles

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