The Monster Poem by Alfred Barna

No matter how depressed and burdened we feel
There seems nothing can lift our deepest despair
And the pain so deep, we can no longer conceal
Yet young child’s laughter peals through the air
Can make everything that daunted us disappear
Transporting us to a land, we didn’t know was there
Oh the wisest of men, ponder deeply, and sourly search
And the scholarly devise ways of calculating the sum
But suddenly, like a singing bird that songs from their perch
A child’s smile and giggles shall strike us all dumb
Oh greatest of gifts are not troves of treasure glittering gold
But the whispers of innocence that travel our homes
And most tender of kisses and fragile hugs that we hold
Believers of fairies and of woodland elves and garden gnomes
More precious than libraries of Congress or Alexandria of old
Littered with knowledge and dusty secrets hidden in tomes
No matter how many times I have tried to keep to the trail
Along come the grandchildren and memories of my own past
Diligently, I attempt to stay focused, but certainly to no avail
As a shining young face pops into the study, rosy and aghast
Thank the Lord for the laughter that reminds us of our young days
As we are all innocent in some aspect in some of our ways
We shall never hold the surety of know everything at all
And Thank God for that, for now the tickle monster shall chase down their gall