|This is how good a sasquatch would be at Photoshop.|
I thought a very special treat for you today would be to delight your senses with poetry!
Ooooh! I can feel you collective gasp of anticipation. I hope I don't over excite you when I tell you that this is poetry of the sasquatch!
Oooooh! You all just clenched up your stomachs all at once! I can tell by the heightening of the universal tension in the world!
Wait, no more!
Here it is:
Poetry of the Sasquatch
By Heather Meyer, who is not a sasquatch but wrote this poem as if she was one, but she is not a sasquatch,
I made a footprint in the snow
that showed all people which way I go.
Making my way to my home
dreaming of when I am not alone.
When the people come and knock my door
down, for tea and cookies and more.
I leave my feet marks over the ground
waiting, waiting for them to be found.
Not often one sees my big foot marks.
Are they too light? Are they too dark?
Human dream of when we meet
Will I be scary? Will I bee neat?
They search and look but never do they find
The actual self, I call mine.
They find one footprint large and different.
And say "but why is there only one footprint?"
And I say, "Ah human, so much you wish you knew
that footprint if from when sasquatch carried you.