Ye have opened up our sleeping minds, and reached deeply into our souls.
Ye have touch our hearts, and doeth scare us in ways we could never have known.
Fear that doeth not come from night, ye doeth bestow upon us in small, delicately spiced frightful illusions.
Running away from spooks in fear, we've gotten many bruises, and contusions.
If only one could step into thine mind Mr. King,
what might I find within thine brilliant being?
A gentle man, of stature tall, whose mind is filled with thoughts so kind,
yet deep within the child abides.
Dreams that once filled the child with fear,
now become on paper clear.
Whispers in the dark of night, not alone, yet no one is in sight.
A noise is heard, or though we think, our fear rides high as we thirst for drink.
A branch scrapes the window, at least that's what we say,
as we tuck our heads under cover to keep the spooks away.
Oh how I love that movie 'ROSE RED',
scared though I be to sleep in my bed.
I'll walk through the house turning on every light,
wondering why on Earth doeth I watch Stephen King's movies, and read his books, in the dead of night.
Velmar Pewee Hale Johnson
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/horror-writer-stephen-king-ye-are-my-inspiration/
