No trespassing, that’s what the words read,
No trespassing, it’s what the sign said,
As I approached the gate upon which it was on,
The words, no trespassing, dared me to come on.
A voice in my head told me to ignore it, that sign,
It said there was something exciting to find,
In the field behind them, gate and its sign,
Are you afraid, the voice asked, or do you think I am lying?
No, I am not afraid, I answered it back,
My gut feeling, though, tells me to shy away from this tack,
Are you man or a mouse? It said mocking me so,
I am a man, I answered, a man on the go.
So I climbed over the gate and stepped into that field,
A green, luscious sward that was ever so still,
Seeing nothing at all, there, other than grass,
I wondered, yes wondered, where it was at.
Suddenly, startlingly, I heard a snort and a wheeze,
Then I saw it, a bull galloping towards me,
So I darted away from it as fast as I could,
And clambered back over that gate made of wood.
The moral of my story, my scary story, is this,
When out in the country give gates a miss,
Don’t listen to voices inside your head,
Stick to your gut feeling, it’s safer, instead.
I don’t care what you call me
as long as you enjoy reading my stories