porfinifigus

Where he comes from nobody knows, he does live,

A myth, a fable, only a child believes, one who has seen.

Along the river bank of a small Eastern town in Maine,

A place of play for a boy named Luke, this is no dream.

Many fantastic tales he does tell; who will listen this time?

Described to others as a type of elf, an ugly troll.

Many late afternoons are when Luke visits the river,

Today it is a bit windy; he will appear once more.

He speaks to Luke in whispers: I am Porfinifigus,

I am created from your thoughts and fear.

Why do you find me here each day? Are you real?

I told you that I live in you; you gave me a name.

There are wishes that you ask for; I can hear you,

With every wish there comes a curse.

I have many things to wish for; will they be mine?

For everything you receive, something I will take.

I wish for all things in this town to be mine,

Foolish boy, everything in this town be no more.

Keith Garrett