I believe
mushrooming fairies and elves
cavort in misty green plots.
I believe
that naughty toys wait until midnight
to stretch and play
free from children’s hands.
I believe
in funambule without net.
I believe
treacherous creatures lurk in the dark.
I believe
I am a werewolf restrained
until the full-moon
releases the shackles
bitter salt rises in blood with the king tide
and the throats of lambs will be slashed.
Walter Mitty is harmless.
Dream on.
Gabe Feathers McGee 
Just changed that a bit!
I believe you are a supercool poet.
Ha,ha,ha – thanks Paul.
I am lost with Walter Mitty! Who he is?
Benedicte, he is a character in the movie ‘The Secret Life of Walter Mitty’ – he’s a fantasist, escapist dreamer http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Mitty
thank you Gabrielle, I red the page on Walter Mitty, very interesting and I understand now the ending of your poem.
That’s good. I’m pretty sure you know what funambule means though 🙂 – tell me if you don’t Benedicte.
Funambule is the same word in French, so no problem there. For Walter Mitty I could have google it, which I usually do but I had an impression that it was an inside joke!
No inside joke – I don’t do those – it is just the French word (I just like the way it has fun in it – and I wanted the meaning of tight rope).
You really do have a dark side! Glad you could let it out, but please warn us when the hair grows and the teeth get pointy so we know when to lock the doors!
Put it this way, my nickname was ‘killer’ at school.
Made me smile. Cheers.
Good to see you smiling Brad.
Wonderful words Gabe! Salt rising in the blood with the king tide… this made the hair rise on the back of my neck.
That’s what I like to hear Graham 🙂
I believe you are right!
They do, I know. I’ve seen them. 😉
Hello Uncle Tree. Nice to see you in this neck of the woods. So I’m not the only one who can see them – ha,ha.
This poem reminded me of how terrified I was to sleep over at my grandmother’s house. She had these tiny little dolls dressed in Victorian era clothes with china faces and eyes that followed you round the room. I know they came alive at night. It still gives me a frisson of terror to think of them.
Eeeekkkk!!!!
I know what you mean Selma. Some dolls are so scary.
I believe you are right
I believe this is an extraordinary poem that would impress Edgar Allan Poe.
Wow Val, I love Edgar Allan Poe.