A Werewolf in Wyre
It’s a full moon tonight
Lock up your daughters and bolt the doors tight.
Windows shuttered, doors double chained closed
To keep me in, no chance to escape down the road.
But what are locks to a werewolf?
What is the point of window and door?
No barriers can slow or restrain us.
The tales of yesteryear tell us, beware the crimson gore.
Slipped snugly under my duvet
9.5 tog in the chill autumn darkness
Feel safe in the knowledge
That the neighbourhood’s protected.
Witches fly across the moon
Broomsticks flashing through the sky.
As the beast in the woods lies lurking
Awaiting the heart still beating.
Morning breaks with a silent crack
As I crawl slowly out of the shelter beside the rock.
Shaking the damp cold from these old bones I wonder
How will I find my way back home?
Where am I, is this blood I see on my hand?
What is this mist shrouded land?
To spare the maidens I locked myself in last night
Yet now I am out here in the spreading light.
At home my windows and doors are still secured.
But what need of a key for a werewolf?
Busily scraping earth from the nails on my toes,
And shaving away the night’s hairy growth.
A scrub in the shower, and a Listerine swish.
A glance in the mirror and everything’s fine.
All back to normal, to outward appearance,
Another new day for a werewolf in Wyre.