Mara Kingfield Poems

Little monkey hiding low;
Now where, oh where, did that monkey go?
Under the basket or the kitchen chair?
Little monkey found no where.
...

Quiet I must be, can't let the monster find me
It seeks me out and calls my name,
I wish it would leave me alone, I'm not to blame.
I feel the need, the need to peek, to get away I must sneak.
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Poems are crazy. Poems are sweet.
Poems tell us a story, They go with a beat.
Pick it up and never put it down,
poems are great and always make silent sounds.
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