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.