The Belly Button Thief ©

I do believe, when young and naïve,
or so the story goes.
You would feel a bit thick,
if you fell for the trick,
where a grandparent stole your nose.

Why would family,
your own kith and kin,
take pleasure in causing such grief,
with tales of Banshees, and Bogeymen,
and the Belly-Button thief?

Scary tales or Fairy tales,
the end result’s the same.
A million kids will wet their beds,
they don’t know it’s just a game.

But by far the most frightening,
Of all these creatures,
There’s one makes my blood run much colder.
The Belly-Button thief doesn’t bother with kids,
He waits until we are older.

I speak as a victim, of a recent assault.
He came for me, just this passed year.
Slowly, with stealth,
No regard for my health,
To make my wee navel, disappear.

He didn’t come in the middle of the night,
As you’d think would be the norm.
This rancid ghoul has wily tools,
And comes in a more sinister form.

He hides in maxi bags of crisps,
And even bacon fries.
Dry-roasted and ready salted nuts,
And chocolates, (surprise, surprise!)

And as your midrift escalates,
To heights it never knew,
Your belly’s horizon,
(which the button relies on.)
obscures the poor wee thing from view.

There is, I’m told, a remedy,
Though as yet I’ve not bothered to try it.
A nasty form of exorcism,
Known as exercise and diet.

For now, I’m happy to stay as I am.
Mr. BBT, you’re off the hook.
And as for seeing my belly-button?
I’ll use a mirror, if I really want to look.