Cachesomore
Once upon a
midnight stash, while I
pondered should I do this cache,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of FTF in store,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a
tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door
-
Only this cache, and nothing more.'
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak of Fall,
And each separate dying step I take, tripping down the upstairs
hall.
Eagerly I wished the find; - vainly I had prepared my mind
From my computer I did race, a slow, but hurried, haunted
pace
For the rare and radiant Coman cache, awaits it's first, of many
more
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain blur of each street pass
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt
before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood
repeating
I spoke softly, like still dead voice, I've been here before
This place of lure and scare, sent chilling rath upon my
spine
This it is, and nothing more,'
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering,
fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream
before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
Alas it's mine, not yours, tis me with FTF
You see, no mortal, has been before, this terror place, of
yesteryore
Merely this and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum give up your score,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `the FTF I'm
craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly tree
-
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the night of lore!'
Quoth the raven,
`Cachesomore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so
plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above in tree -
Bird or beast , in this dence land, of yesteryear I adore
With such name as
`Cachesomore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid tree, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did
outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered
-
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before
-
The FTF ,has left his mark, though others will surely embark, like
those of before.'
Then the bird said, as he turned his head
`Cachesomore.'
It's like he's mocking me, perched high, above the forest
grind
The fear, I felt, was surely, in my mind, do I sign, do I sign, do
I sign....
Not beast nor bird, has the power to peer into my soul, with eyes
of night
Peering into my mind, taunting me to sign, to sign the log like
others have before
I grab my quill, reach out, and place my name upon the list,
chilled to the core
He's mocking me, or encouraging me as I here my last
“Cachesomore”.............
PLEASE DO NOT HUNT THIS CACHE UNTIL
6am NOVEMBER 5TH, 2011