Shadow Jack

I have an Uncle Jimmy. He is a hairy man.
He has a very long and bushy beard.
And just last week at dinner, I gazed into its depths
And—oh my gosh—a pair of eyes appeared.

“Oh! Look!” I shouted loudly. “There’s something in your beard!”
My Uncle Jim just winked and twinkled back.
“I know,” he whispered softly. “A creature lives in there.”
“He likes the dark. I’ve named him Shadow Jack.”

“Is Shadow Jack a monster? And should I be afraid?”
My mind was racing. Was he telling fibs?
“No, he is quite harmless. But when it’s dark and late,
He crawls right out and tickles all my ribs.”

My parents were not list’ning. They were preparing food.
They bought in trays of sausages and pie.
My Uncle Jim said nothing, so I said nothing too.
Besides, they’d simply think it was a lie.

I sat while we ate slowly. I watched as Uncle Jim
Dropped several peas right down into his beard,
I had to clamp my mouth shut as merely seconds passed,
Yet one by one the peas all disappeared.

When Mum and Dad arose then, to clear the plates away,
All Jim said was, “One day you’ll understand.
This sort of thing is normal. It happens to us all.
You’ll get a creature too, when you’re a man.”

I never told this story once Uncle Jim had left.
I grew up and, despite what Jim had said,
I never had a creature reside inside MY beard.
You see, I shaved my chin each day instead!

Image © Robbie Yates 2017

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