A little monster has fears just like anybody else. 20 lines
THE LITTLE OGRE
By Michele Lourie c2017
The little monster cried when his Daddy said
“It’s eight o’clock and time for bed.”
“Boo hoo, I don’t want to go right now.”
But Daddy said, “Let’s not have a row.
Put your jammies on and choose a book
Then snuggle up in the window nook.
I’ll come up soon and read to you,
Oh, and don’t forget to use the loo.”
The ogre tiptoed towards his room
His face a picture of doom and gloom.
At the door of his bedroom he suddenly stopped
A noise he’d heard, so out his eyes popped.
Standing still though shaking from head to toe
His skin changed from green to a pasty dough.
“Ogeegr ogigwee gagelpo” he burped,
(Well, an ogre’s not a bird, so he wouldn’t have chirped!)
Then he fell to the floor in a terrible funk
All 85 kilos made one ‘ogre-ish’ clunk.
His parents were shocked by the noises he made
They had never before heard him sound so afraid.
Up the stairs they both ran, without further delay,
Dad nearly knocking Mother out of his way.
Beneath the bedclothes they found him at last
Father pulled him out and held him fast.
He rocked back and forth while Mum cradled his head
“Tell us what’s wrong,” his Dad tearfully said.
Ogre shivered, then stared with eyes blood red.
“I THINK THERE ARE KIDS HIDING UNDER MY BED.”