K. T. Pearson

As the light fades from my eyes,
each breath draws shorter.
Your tears fall upon my cheek.
I fight for one more second with you.

I hear the love in your voice.
as you whisper, "It's okay to let go."
I leave you, my heart,
and the one you gave me.

Please take my hand
and don't let go,
as my final thoughts
of us carry me home

It is a small word
with a big bite,
the worst ever heard;
it is just not polite.

If you could hold it,
it would feel like a ton.
Beware not to use it;
it hurts, even in fun.

It never feels nice.
It should never be heard.
Please take my advice
and use another word.

You know how it feels
when someone says it to you.
It takes forever to heal,
even though it's not true.

You must not forget.
Never make that mistake.
You will live with regret
if you use the word HATE.

Tomorrow is my birthday.
I will need all new toys;
the ones I have are for little boys.

Tomorrow is my birthday.
If my shoes will still fit, I haven't a clue.
I may need one size bigger or maybe two.

Tomorrow is my birthday.
I will have grown so tall
all my clothes will be too small.

Tomorrow is my birthday.
It won't be long before I can drive.
In the morning I'll be turning five.

My mom said, "Eat all your soup,
every piece of chicken and every noodle."
But there's a cow in my soup.

I need to get him out of there.
I don't know if he can swim.
How he got there, I'm not aware.

My mom says, "Stop slurping your soup,"
every time he starts to moo.
Heck, I'm just hoping he doesn't poop

He keeps splashing me with his tail.
My mom says, "You're making a mess."
She must have gotten this soup on sale.

I give up; it's no use.
My mom says, "For dessert,
We're having chocolate mousse."

I told my mom there is a monster under my bed,
and she tells me it's all in my head.
What about the one coming through my wall?
Or the one I hear stomping down the hall?

She says monsters are not real.
I'm not sure how about this I feel.
She tells me to be afraid of strangers,
but she seems to think monsters pose no danger.

She tells me monsters are make-believe.
Oh, on this we do not agree.
When I open my eyes in the dark,
I can hear the beat of my own heart.

Listening for a monster's growl
or a werewolf's howl.
The scraping of a claw
from behind my wall.

I hide under my sheets
hoping he can't see my feet.
Any second he could pounce.
Out of my bed I will bounce.

I'm ready to run for the door,
making sure my feet never touch the floor.
All the while screaming so loud
it would make any scared kid proud.

I am sure when my mom turns on the light
she will not find a monster tonight.
She will look under my bed
and tell me again it is all in my head.

She still thinks monsters are make-believe.
I wish it would just leave.
How about just for tonight
we leave on all the lights.