I’ve heard of a tale
From long, long ago
That tells of a beastie
With fur white as snow.
I’ve heard of his teeth-
As sharp as a knife-
That’d cut through a boulder
Without any strife.
I’ve heard he breathes fire-
The hottest blue flame-
So wild and rowdy
And never near tame.
I’ve heard of his eyes-
A crystalline red-
Used to discover
What sleeps on the bed.
I’m hearing a growl-
A lowly, deep grr.
I’m seeing a flash of
White, fuzzy fur.
I’m seeing some teeth-
They look razor sharp-
Emerging from under
my satin blue tarp.
I’m seeing the eyes-
Most certainly red-
And now a blue flame-
Whoops, I’m dead.