I dreamed of feathers and flapping of wings,
Some cluck clucks and egg-shaped things.
I woke up, went down and kitchened myself,
Breakfast time, muesli on the shelf.
Or so I thought, it was gone,
The fruit and seeds too, the list goes on.
Three-pronged footprints on the floor and walls,
Feathers strewn everywhere, along my clean halls.
The front door open, lock picked by a feather,
I was confused adding this all together.
Then I saw a note, a small piece of paper,
Left by the one who performed this caper.
As I read the note, my blood began to thicken:
“You’ve been had by the midnight chicken!”