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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Family · #2193693
Kids aren't the only ones who worry when the lights go out. (Photo by Ashkan Forouzani.)
The Monster Under the Grown-Up's Bed

It doesn't have scales or fangs for teeth,
The creature who lurks so still beneath
The bed where grown-ups try to rest
After giving their all and doing their best.

But sleep only comes in fits and starts,
For under the bed they know in their hearts,
There waits an ogre of many faces
Who torments on a stress-and-strain basis.

Tonight it may be job stability,
An overdue bill or liability,
Tomorrow the worry is children's braces,
Or Honey asking to take her places.

At times into life foul ghouls do spring
From machines, electronics, anything
Which suddenly breaks and needs repair
At the very worst time, it isn't fair...

What have we done by act or omission
To rate our minivan's bad transmission,
Or the promotion that just never came;
We do our best, how are we to blame?

Oh, the dust bunny ghoul is an evil sort,
A dastardly villain, a plain bad sport.
We come to bed having fought the good fight,
To be haunted by worries throughout the night.

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