2 January 2013
Once upon a Wednesday, back in 1952
An old lady had died, and her body turned quite blue
Her boiler had packed up, and with no money for repair
Her fragile heart succumbed to the chill within the air
She lay there for a day and no-one noticed she had died
Except the little blue thing, that in her house had chose to hide
The blue thing saw a chance of some companionship
Even though she was expired, he could make her dance and skip
So he entered through her mouth and began to take control
Her eyelids fluttered open as if she'd grown another soul
The blue thing was well pleased as he stretched himself right out
To every piece of the old lady, then they began to move about
To move to feel to see everything through shared blue eyes
She was only 4' 9" but to him the perfect size
Once he'd got the hang of her, they ran and skipped and danced
What a difference for a blue thing, how his life became enhanced
With no-one there to bother them they moved throughout the night
But blue things only stay until the breaking morning light
And soon the time had come, so he gently sat her down
He left her lifeless vessel and if he could he would have frowned
Once more just a blue thing and as he hid himself away
Her eyelids fluttered open, and she was heard to say
'My goodness, what a dream, and oh! it's warm in here!'
(The blue thing fixed the boiler. Cold would never reappear)
Shrugging it aside the old lady lived her days
Never knowing that she'd died and it weren't no dreamy haze
There was one thing however, her little finger had turned blue
She couldn't get it clean no matter what she tried to do
And deep within a recess, securely in his hiding place
The blue thing would have smiled if he only had a face...
The Little Blue Thing • Opuss № I