Childhood Dreams, Part Two

In the land called Montaloo

There lived a little To-me-too.

This fearless animal was no fool.

It knew how to get its food.

The To-me-too would lay in wait,

For a fool to pass its gate.

And when the victim would draw near,

The To-me-too would bite its ear.

And while the target cried in pain,

The To-me-too was sure to gain

For in thinking of the terrible ache,

They’d surely miss the creature take.

For it would grab the victim’s lunch

On which the To-me-too would munch.

But the Montaloonies could never see

This very elusive enemy,

Their houses are small and hard to find,

For the harder to find, the easier to dine.

By word of mouth, it has passed down.

So we know, it’s in the ground.

And for its look, I’m glad you asked,

Around its eyes, a swarthy mask.

They have long ears and razor teeth.

Large, alert eyes, and tiny feet.

Their tails like squirrels and paws like mice.

Their teeth like a dog who isn’t nice.

It’s head like a cat with eyes that see

Even in the dark, an enemy.

And for it’s fur, a lighter gray,

And clearly it’s a vertebrate.

But for the size, controversy!

Some say two feet and others three!

Perhaps, it is, we’ll never know

For To-me-toos that hide below.

Once a man caught To-me-too,

But the creature knew just what to do.

It feigned sick, but didn’t stop there.

It went on lying without a care.

It told a story, in the form of a poem.

About its children back at home.

It lied that it stole to feed its kids.

That was the reason for all it did.

The man who caught it was such a sap.

Unquestioned, he let it go at that.

But everyone knows they live alone,

It won’t even have a wife at home.

So the To-me-too was free again,

To steal and injure many men.

No one knows when it will strike,

Or who’s the prey of its next bite.

But there is one thing that’s evident

The To-me-too can’t be a pet.

***Dreams truly are the most vivid when you are young and have a crazy imagination. I dreamed of alligators and zoos, strange creatures and magic. Some became stories. Some games. Some poetry. We tend to lose some of that magic as adults, so I chose to submit poems from my teenage years.