Mischievous Toys (Original Version) Poem by Kim Barney

Sometimes I dream that while I sleep
my toys get up and start to creep
around the room and on my bed
and pull my hair and poke my head.

When my eyes open, they are gone,
back on the shelves where they belong.
So are these rascals what they seem?
Do they do mischief while I dream?

Why don't they move around by day
so I could have more fun at play?
It would be nice if they would talk
and let me watch them while they walk.

One of these days I'll earn their trust;
I surely will; I surely must!
And you'll see how this story ends:
we'll all become the best of friends!