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