The Dry Man (1)

Have you seen the dry man?
He watches as I sleep.
He waits until I’ve closed my eyes,
then in my room does creep.

I hear him move, a rustling groan,
his spindly legs a crook.
Now wide awake before too late,
I spring upright to look.

And there he is in corner chair,
makes no attempt to hide.
He sits there waiting patiently,
does he want to confide?

His knuckles crack like dusty sacks,
why is it that he sneaks?
His empty eyes peruse, summise,
what is it that he seeks?

The nights pass by and still he comes,
it may now be too late.
I cannot help but wish it back,
undo what did create.

That price I payed to see him now,
is more than I can bare.
I wonder if I am alone,
as look at him and stare.

Have you seen him lately?
Or do you still deny?
I promise if you only look,
The Dry Man you will spy.

Do you see him?

– J.S.Worth

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