Writing

Sometimes I ask myself, “Why am I so sleepy?”.

I wake up all squishy and squashy and droopy.

I can’t get myself to get up and get started.

It feels like my will has packed up and departed.

I know that I sometimes have bad dreams at night.

The monsters that come in my room without light.

All worried and frightened, they keep me awake,

It’s all I can do to not to quiver and shake.

So I grabbed up my trusty old monster repellants,

The nightlight and flashlight I’d plucked from my parents.

They’d taken them from me, said I was too old,

To need ocular brighteners protecting me so.

Finally settled, I curled up with my teddy,

For monsters or anything strange I was ready.

I’d made myself comfee, with pillows abound,

As still as a statue, not making a sound.

I waited, but in the end drifted to sleep.

Slobbering grossly on pillows and sheets.

The thought of all creepy things not a concern.

The mood of the evening then took a slight turn.

Laughter and music and sparkling lights,

Maracas and mirror globes, blue velvet tights?

Purple green fuzzy feet, someone wore red,

Was I dreaming or was I removed from my bed?

Tap-dancing! Break-dancing! Disco and Tango!

Dance steps my partners were eager to show.

They wisked me up gently into their arms

Desperate to prove to me all of their charms.

Fluid and graceful, you’d never have guessed.

That these were the monsters who’d left me distressed.

Dropping my guard and taking a chance.

All the night-long we boogied and danced.

When dark became light, my friends quietly left me.

Went back to their homes, wherever that might be.

Exhausted, I quietly drifted once more.

To my bed and then slowly I started to snore.

Normally the wee hours provide me with rest

Except for those nights that I cha-cha my best.

I realize now, at night when I hear,

All that bumping and thumping: there’s nothing to fear.

If monsters are friendly and rise nightly to dance.

I’ll turn out the lights and give them the chance.