Out of the sapphire shadows he creeps, <br />and into the dead of night he seeps. <br />In his prison grays, hiding from the light <br />of day, they call him, 'Bandit.' <br /> <br />He never walks, he stalks. <br />As the sun sinks, he prepares to slink, <br />through your open window. <br />Better beware. He'll find you <br />and your brightest treasures, too. <br />There's no escape from Bandit. <br /> <br />Suddenly, he prances and dances; <br />he flounces and bounces; <br />he pounces into your heart, unannounced. <br />Like a soft furry gray glove, <br />he scoops up and steals your love, <br />because, he's a bandit! <br /> <br /> <br />A few years ago I found two tiny, abandoned kittens under my mobile home. My daughter and I fed them from tiny nursing bottles and eyedroppers. One my daughter named Sapphire and the other Shadow. These are the sapphire shadows from which my poem crept.'<br /><br />Mary Naylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bandit-2/
