Back to Stories 'N Other Things Back
Home Monster
At night when I was young, and needed out of bed,
I would creep to the edge, and peer down
Searching frantically for "the monster" with dread.
Then I would sigh with relief when no monster was found.
Tentatively I would put my feet over the edge, waiting.
When nothing happened, out of bed I would race
Dashing down the hall to a room less frightening,
All the while expecting "the monster's" chase.
My parents would comfort me and say, "It's not
real,"
Then to my room with the flashlight we'd go.
Under my bed we looked, "See no monster." No toes would
be meals.
Then they would tuck me in . . . but I saw it's eyes glow.
And then, when things would disappear, under my bed I would look
Carefully, praying the monster would not wake.
Under my bed I would find the treasures it took,
And pictures of it, like a dragon on it's hoard, my imagination would make.
But now I know the monster under my bed IS real,
Nipping at my toes when e're she gets the chance.
I'm not afraid now, and sometimes her I will call.
As she creeps out, I reach for her, and she slips through my
fingers like a seal.
Then she chuckles away and dances a wild war dance,
Bucking and swaying down the hall.
"The monster" . . . who nips my toes by night,
"The monster" . . . who steals my toys by day,
"The monster" . . . who gave me 'such fright',
"The monster" . . . the one with I now play.
Written about Kyyreen ~1997 one dull day in calculus.