Oh, but you were
So sneaky,
On this drab,
Cold Tuesday morn,
When you came
Softly creeping
Through the
Steel grey
Light of dawn.
Where was the
March of boots?
The thump of your
Stamping feet?
Instead you Hi-Viz boys
Slipped quietly,
Wraith-like,
Along our
Sleeping street.
With voices strangely muted,
Your words uttered low,
Who listened at your arrival?
Or even heard you go?
And prowling up behind you,
Lurking, ever eager for the feast,
Crawled the fearsome,
Awful behemoth,
The monster they call
The Beast.
I suspect you were snoozing ….