A ghost in an attic
jumps out – BOO–
I shout to Mama
to know what to do.

It’s a trap,
it’s a trap–
I run to sit
on Mama’s lap.

‘It’s Grandpa,
not a ghost,’
Granny grunts and claps,
‘off your Mam’s lap–
Too old for that at six,
but you can kiss Granny’s lips’–

I spin, spin around, glum,
kissing Gran’s lips is no fun,
it’s cool to sit on Mama’s lap.
It’s a trap, it’s a trap.

Tick-tock – sings a clock.

~

(A Poem without using ‘e’ – not as easy as you may think.)