Sunday, July 9, 2006

memories of a bunkbed I

The bunkbed is high
And he is so tall
No bars beside me
To keep me from a fall.

I'm already in pajamas
He's here to say "good night"
But we both know he really came
To have a tickle fight

Looking from the surface
It may seem just a game
And maybe for others it is,
Maybe they do the same.

As I lay in bed, he stands on the floor
And on the count of three
He starts our special game-
He begins tickling me

As the game progresses
I laugh and laugh some more
But as it changes over time...
I don't like it anymore!

First is the problem of stopping,
He just doesn't seem to know when
Next is the problem of where
He tickles me, and then

Come the other changes
He begins to slowly add
(Just thinking about them now
makes me boiling mad!)

He wheedles and cajoles me,
Night, after night, after night
To take off my pajamas
for "just one tickle fight"

Once I give in to that
Instead of getting better
The demands are more specific
To the point, to the letter.

This time it's my underwear
He wants to do without
And because I am so young...
I do not think to shout.