Hobgoblin

The  Hobgoblin

 

There are odd little footprints down by the shed.
The cat won’t come out from under the bed.
All of my children’s dolls were beheaded.
All of the clothes in my closet were shredded.
The pantry is littered with half-eaten bread.
The traps were all sprung, but no rats are dead.
Whatever on earth could it possibly be?
This mischievous presence I have yet to see…

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