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Rated: E · Poetry · Children's · #1026105
Merry is a monster who just can't be mean. What will she do with Christmas so near?
Merry was a monster,
All black and grey and white,
Hiding underneath the beds,
And sneaking out at night.

She tried to be a good one,
She’d try and try and try,
But somehow she just couldn’t bear
To see the children cry.

And so she’d make them laugh instead,
By tickling their toes.
Blowing dust balls at their feet,
Which stood in two neat rows.

But when the morning sun came in,
Merry had to go,
By turning into specks of dust,
And hiding from the glow.

And so her days went quickly by,
But at the Monsters’ Hall,
The monsters were all saying
Merry wasn’t bad at all!

Then word came from the Monster Hall
One dark and stormy night,
That Merry would be punished
If she couldn’t be a fright.

She had until the New Year
To be a better scare
Or else she’d quickly fade away
And vanish in thin air.

Merry tried that very night
To make the children cry.
She grabbed at feet, and moaned out loud,
It was her greatest try.

It worked! The children wept with fear.
First Merry was quite glad.
But as she heard the children cry,
She crept away quite sad.

She tried to scare them every night,
She didn’t want to fade!
But the children’s tears made Merry cry
For the sadness she had made.

Still Merry tried to be a scare,
But sometimes she’d forget.
Tickling little toes and feet,
Every time they met.

One night she heard them whisper
That Christmastime was coming.
They spoke of colors and pretty things.
Soon Merry’s ears were humming!

Reds! And Blues! And Greens! And Golds!
Colors bright and gay!
They talked of all the presents
They would see on Christmas Day.

Christmastime drew very near,
And one bright sunny day,
The children talked of nothing
But the tree that came to stay.

The more that Merry heard them talk
About this Christmas thing,
The more that little monster
Would let her dreams take wing.

She wanted to see colors!
To see more than just this bed.
She wanted to BE colors,
To be Green and Blue and Red.

But Merry was a monster,
All black and grey and white,
Colors to a monster
Meant you couldn’t be a fright!

Finally it came at last!
That merry Christmas night.
The children were all talking
About the pretty sight.

That night the children went to bed
Without the dustball game.
Bedtime with no tickled toes
Just was not the same.

The children drifted off to sleep,
While Merry watched the door.
Slowly she began to creep
Through shadows on the floor.

She had to see those Christmas sights!
The Green and Blue and Gold!
She had to see the inside tree,
Before the night grew old.

She tiptoed down the stairway,
And saw a wondrous sight!
Colors sparkling everywhere,
And shining through the night!

Glowing from the Christmas Tree
Shone Red, Blue, Green, and Gold.
She’d never dreamed that color
Could be so bright and bold.

The room was lit with colored light,
So Merry scurried fast,
Slipping underneath the tree,
Back in the dark at last.

From her shadowed hideaway
She watched the colors gleam.
Each dancing shade of Red and Gold
Reflected Merry’s dream.

The colors were a lullabye
To Merry’s tired eyes.
She drifted gently off to sleep
To dream of colored skies.

Soon the creeping sound of feet
Brought Merry from her dream.
She woke to find her own grey face
Shining in a black boot’s gleam.

Great Red mittens picked her up,
Past a beard of flowing white.
Never had Merry seen the world
From such a wondrous height!

A booming laugh, a great deep voice
That spoke of happy business
Said “Welcome to the world of light,
“My darling, Merry Christmas!”

“You wanted to be colors,
“And so my gift to you,
“No more black or grey or white,
“But Red and Green and Blue!”

When the morning sun came in,
The children rushed to see
The treasures Santa Claus had left
Beneath the Christmas tree.

Of all the toys and presents
Received that Christmas Day,
Merry was the favorite,
In colors bright and gay.

Merry was a monster,
As every body knew,
But sometimes even monsters
Can have their dreams come true.
© Copyright 2005 Dorothy Muir (katieg at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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