Achilles (a poem for my daughter).

The girl’d stare down tiger to fright
Frown gaze a light mite facing the feline to fight.

The girl’d climb mountains and cliffs and roaring rivers big
Or ride with poker face wild on tusked Borneo pig.

The girl, the girl, she’d face down villains and monsters in the cold dark of night,
she’d handle em all with the grim fateful force of her might.

The girl, she as brave as they come,
her ferocious courage flanked by deadpan demeanor and a howdy ho hum.

The girl, that girl, she ain’t ‘afraid a nothing you got, there ain’t nothing to bring down her force of a powerhouse…

…except…except should she encounter an army of mouse.

Not even mice plural,
that silly Achilles girl.

What frights her the most
from cranial coast West to East coast,

is the sight or sound of a squeak not divine;
"…that," she murmurs, retreating with rapid fervor, "is where I draw the absolute line."

Should you face her as nemesis archenemy,
know that the only and final and absolute key,

the key to defeat the brave girl fearless
is to fill her with fear with a sound that is near.

A near sound that is nothing to some
and scary to some,

"some" being the girl who ain’t scared a nothing,

and is super kind-nice…
except should she encounter a herd of mouse or a mice.