I want to be the troll
that lives under this bridge
swing huge flat feet
that never slip on shale
slapping currents in water
yes, I would feed on minnows
and scatter tadpoles,
my long, hairy fingers
grabbing at ankles
of any who dare
walk over my house,
stomp their feet
on my roof
and wake me up hungry
but I am not
that fairy tale monster;
my feet slip
on this creek bottom’s
warm worn stone
and I can just sit here,
on the bank
stir toes
in daydreams
and cool water
not a troll;
no, not even a witch
just me
Susan Daniels Poetry 
easy to imagine the little girl in you doing the very same thing! lovely image. 🙂
all I could think about, under the bridge today, was how much fun it could be to be a troll 🙂
Hope that little girl never grows all the way up
me too!
😉
Oh I am laughing…oh to be a troll!!!:) Great write Susan.;)
-Jennifer
Thank you Jennifer 🙂
I like the childlike qualities of this piece but can still see the adult undertone, good stuff
Thanks so much! Glad you liked.