Goldilocks - Poetry Please - Worry

Goldilocks and the Three Bears of the Apocalypse

Look at her. Sleeping. The picture of peace.

No shadows cross over her complacent face.

No frown on her forehead. Unworried. Replete.

She dreams of a planet, and it is just right.

Her galaxy spirals. Its life-span's immense.

It's one in ten billion. By some lucky chance

Her planet has water and in liquid state

As it orbits its sun in conditions just right.

Her Earth has a moon whose rotation is such

That neither one wanders or wobbles too much

And all through the night it reflects the sun's light

And Goldilocks dreams that this is just right.

The physical constants in her universe

Bind atoms together with the precise force

That enables their fusion in the star's heat

So conditions for porridge have turned out just right.

Jupiter's presence attracts asteroids

Cataclysmic impacts that her world thus avoids

Meanwhile the porridge she left on the plate

Is crawling with microbes that find it just right.

Somehow the microbes produce RNA

Repeat and adapt and grow smarter each day

They swim and they crawl and they even take flight

As they breathe in a mixture of gas that's just right.

Look at her. Sleeping. The girl's had such fun.

She sat on three chairs but she only broke one.

She ate a child's porridge, which was hardly polite

But she couldn't resist it for it was just right.

What was that noise? There's someone downstairs!

If I'm not mistaken it's three angry bears.

When Goldilocks wakes she'll get such a fright.

Oh dear! Look away children. Something's not right.

She's nowhere to run. She's already at home.

The house that she ransacked in fact was her own.

Here come Fury and Terror and Black Endless Night.

She'll be sorry she spoiled it when it was just right.