A satiric poem with some Halloween horror.
It's known to be bad luck they say,
To take a coin from Wishful Bay,
But I cared not what rumor spoke,
I thought I'd give a look, a poke.
I dove beneath the water cold,
"Perhaps I'd find myself some gold"
When sure enough a glint of glisten,
a lustrous sheen, it seemed my mission.
I grasped the trinket from the sand.
It shimmered in my brazen hand.
I turned with pride...swam toward the bank,
then felt a nudge upon my flank.
I turned to see a sight so scary,
the creature whom we all were wary.
Its fin stood out like Satan's horn.
I feared I'd never see the morn.
Then with a chomp, I felt it's teeth.
It pulled me down, to depths beneath.
A shark so large I could not tell.
I held my breath, "all is not well".
Then suddenly my arm was out!
I rose to light... my will was stout.
I gasped for air had no control.
The battle with the beast, took toll.
I looked around, blood everywhere.
I checked my arm, which was not there!
I shouted HELP, and thrashed about.
A kindly sailor pulled me out.
I wakened to the mornings light.
Twas all a dream, I felt delight.
But this was not my room, my bed,
A hospital, my thoughts misread.
I raised my wounded arm to see,
But it was truly gone from me.
The shark had stolen limb, and hand,
the one in which the coin was crammed.
It is bad luck to take away,
A coin from under Wishful Bay.
If I should see a shimmer there,
I'll leave it be, I will not care.