Disclaimer: Severus Snape is the property of J.K. Rowling. If you're one of those people who hasn't read the books or watched the movies and only come on here to sue or criticize people, he actually is mentioned in this poem, but as the Potions Master, and not by name. Danger belongs to herself, a concept beyond any mortal man (or young author, for that matter.)
Author's Note: I had an urge to write a free-verse poem. Here's how it turned out. Tell me what you think.
DangerHer dress is black like the moonless night.
She's a cunning soul. She embraces you, and wraps you blind.
Her name is Danger.
She fancies the potions master, chasing madly after him. Someday, she'll get him, and she'll never let go.
His eyes are dark underneath from sleepless nights- he knows she follows.
He cannot convince her to love another man; his passion is too great.
He works with cauldron, and brew, and flame.
She loves flame.
She's sure she'll get him someday- she stalks him like a panther in the shadows, waiting for her chance to spring.
He cannot love another.
Or so he thinks.
So he flirts with Danger, and has learned caution.
Her luscious black hair caresses him, turning air to poison.
He breathes.
Not for long, she thinks.
He looks for love
And flirts with Danger.