Creeper at my Doorway (a poem)
Creeper at my Doorway
Creeper at my doorway, doorway creep,
My guard is raised when night comes on;
I make sure there’s a stone wall drawn
Between you and me.
Pixelated green-head wandering ’round,
And always ripe to explode to cloud,
when you’re nearby then two’s a crowd,
that hissing sound.
But creeper, I have seen you walking lost,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me at my most inept:
A body with no host.
That day he gave our heads a texture,
Notch made me King and you the Joker,
Your head a sad rotating scanner;
My castle almost finished? Never.
(After Robert Frost’s Tree at my Window)