Poetry

I tiptoe down the stairs,

And shiver in the nighttime airs.

I reach the bottom floor

An errand many would deplore.

My stomach rumbles angrily,

But I make it wait, stubbornly.

I pull on a small nylon jacket,

softly and devoid of racket.

Finally, to my belly’s delight,

I go down a long stair flight.

I travel to the cold dark cellar,

Which is full of food, pristine and stellar.

I look around in my ecstasy,

an choose out a tasty delicacy.

I throw together my tasty snack,

and go back upstairs to hack.

I chomp and crunch and chop,

My meal mixing with spittle and slop.

My happiness and joy overwhelm me,

And my heart races with warm energy.

Then I wipe up my face,

In a fervent race,

To run up the stairs,

In the nighttime airs.