Ghost Crab



Scurry, hurry along the sand

squiggly wiggly cellophane bubble.

You almost fit in a giggly hand.

Look at you scramble and scuttle


over small feet, make the children scream.

Your ghostly transparency

by white beaches haunts a dream

while the moon sings a D


with a smile and a half.

We see the tides beneath your skin.

Don’t pinch!  Make everyone laugh.

Blink!  Now we don’t see anything


but two eyeball dots on your invisible head.

So roll a merry die chase,

race the children to bed.

Disappear into your tunnel of lace.


~ by dianeklammer on March 4, 2013.

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