Without a sound,
the creature walks
Across the grass,
Across the rocks,
Don’t you see it?
He’s wearing crocs.
Those holey shoes
and without socks!
This creature sneaks
in times of dark,
upending bins,
so doggos bark,
He teases cats,
on nightly hikes;
he pushes kids
right off their bikes.
Without a growl
the creature slinks,
under your bed,
your couch, your sinks,
He never bathes
he rather stinks,
You cannot stop
his high jinxs.
Without a sound,
he will shimmy,
scaring children,
from the chimney.
He creeps, he crawls,
he often stalks…
But he’s my friend,
that guy in crocs.