Mario Micallef
Eggplant Editor
All Ears
Once there was a girl, and she was asked a question.
“Girl, do listen up, will you hear my newest obsession?”
Girl wore a thick dark cloak; nobody ever saw her reflection.
“Indeed I shall, Madam May, I am all ears.”
She took to her cloak like cheetahs to deers.
Swiping at it swiftly, the cloak came down,
Madam May swears it true; in her eyes, only stunned fear:
Girl was covered head to toe with an ear.
On every inch of her frame an ear did hear.
Madam May let out a shriek and reveal her a frown.
How could this be, this unlikely lot?
No truth ever found.
Merely whispers of how, spread through the town.
Not a breath was true. Many have forgot:
Girl, wasn’t a monster, or a devil, nay.
Her beauty: pure, and wickedly profound.
Untwining the prickly puzzle, requires only this:
Find her midday, and the warm sun will reveal her bliss.
Girl grew her ears; tell away.
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