Under Every Child’s Bed There Is A— Thing. Maybe a monster Maybe a friend Maybe a friendly monster, But something. Something to Protect you from… psst— the one in your closet. But when you grow Older, The monster (or friend) Gathers up all his friends In your closet or Drawer or Bathroom or Attic and retires because adults are just too boring. But they come back… When you need them again.
PS: the magic page that will always jump you to the latest poem is "http://www.saintannsny.org/depart/computer/poems.html"