Walking down the isle,
On a cold winter night.
No money or rifle;
The sky is without light!

My eyes struggled to see a thing,
But all i could see were blurred images.
Of grunting pigs and hooting owls;
Terrifying sounds of chirping birds.

Across seven streets I came to a door,
I opened so hard and fell to the floor.
With trembling feet I ran to a room;
an invisible hand, gave me a broom.

Across the room I stood and stared;
At what I would have sworn was there,
Though the darkness was strong;
What my eyes could see were not wrong!

I saw seven eyes popping in the wall,
With fear I shivered and felt so small.
Were not those the eyes of the hooting owls?
Alas! I'm trapped in obscurity on my own.

In fear I stood frozen at a point;
Then I heard loud cries and laughter. 
Those were the voices of the grunting pigs;
I tried moving but my feet were moist.

The darkness I feared is now my shield,
The chirping birds were swallows and sparrows.
I got a broom not a bow and arrow,
I was obscured to darkness and took to my heels!

© Felicity Ojochogwu.