Alone in a rocking chair, Roger lays,
Resting his long chin on the wooden arm,
His chimney hallowed nose exhausting hot wind,
Listening to Grandfather’s chant of rotation.
Upon hearing five, Roger dismounts,
Pounding each wall with excitement and relief.
As he hobbles to the front door, his neck hair prickled
Telling him not to. He pauses for clarity,
Only to be met by an equine shadow,
Taunting him forward, announcing its presence with crashing ocean waves.
Roger unveils his teeth, his hair electrified.
The dark creature scoffs at his denial, transforming the front door into dust.
Roger now pleads, his pride between his legs,
Searching for a puppy in a translucent reflection upon a window.
It nickers shortly, nodding its head towards Grandfather.
At the count of five, there’s no more time.
The equine Grim Reaper lures like a Kelpie,
And Roger accepts with woe, dragging his overgrown nails.
Intentional collision was written, and so it shall be done with great velocity.
Roger must protect his beloved from the truth.
Roger finds his velocity, a neighbor’s red hot Beamer.
The shadowed reaper clicks, signaling his horrible demise.
Roger counted to five before leaping, guaranteeing
His chosen ending is far from ignorance, but undying love.