A zombie walks down the street,

rotten skin, shuffling feet

Smiling at the passersby,

ghoulish grin, dangling eye

He greets his neighbors cordially,

moaning groans, children flee

Puzzled by the things he hears,

screaming voices, streaming tears

The zombie stops and looks around,

empty windows, shuttered down

Quietly he starts to sob.

fire, pitchforks, angry mob

Men come running, moving fast!

yelling, shoving, shotgun blast

The zombie falls, a second death.

broken, bleeding, gasping breath

The words slip from his ruined mug,

"But all I wanted was a hug!"

I wrote this silly little poem to add some fun to our Zombie-themed dress socks' packaging.  The idea of how easily a passive zombie's quest for a human contact might be mistaken for typical brain-eating behavior stuck with me.  It's lonely being undead!

Cheers!

Ryan