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Something Underneath My Bed J L Watts
At age three it was a monster underneath my bed
Ready to snag my sock as I got up.
Its colourful eyes absorbing
The world from my window.
At six it was a laughing clown underneath my bed
Its happy painted face betrayed
By those angry eyes
Its red shiny nose pressing against my mattress.
At age twelve it was a Victorian ghost underneath my bed
It carried its head in its hands
Waving at me in my bedside mirror reflection
Looking for a new football to play with
Preferably my head.
At twenty it was a woman underneath my bed
Breathing nervously as mum sets down a mug
Tucking her barely concealed feet under her legs
Unlike the monster she'll be there in the morning.
At age thirty there’s a pile of colourful magazines under my bed
A divorcee occupational hazard.
Many bought when I still had
A full head of hair.
At sixty there’s a medicine bottle underneath my bed
Taken twice a day at lunch and dinnertime
But despite deep concentration
I forget where I put it.
At seventy I’m underneath my bed
As my crazy grandchild runs around
Demanding this and that
As I watch my lamp being hit with a tennis ball.
I laugh as I look back
The moody monster to the creepy clown
From the vicious Victorian to the laborious kids
Via girlfriends and prescriptions
A cinema of fake childhood fears turned into adult realities
A world beneath my bed.
READER'S REVIEWS (2) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"This is relly cute...I liked it alot" -- MQWalters aka Mattie.
"I liked this poem alot, Its cute and so close to reality of ones idea of growing older." -- Nikky Epperly.
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