A room coming to life

My Best Friend

You are indeed one lucky child

Your friends lie in your room, piled

At each and every possible angle

It is sometimes too much to handle!

You also have many toys, that much is true

But usually you have not with them to do

You are, in fact, too busy by a mile

To play with Tommy the truck, or Crocodile Kyle

Your true companions, plane and simple,

Have no teeth, nare even a dimple

They stand stock still all day long

That is, until you sing a special song

This song is truly not hard to sing

It is simpler than using a magic ring

You lightly press your lips together

But do not whistle! merely whisper

Out your tune, and all in a rush

Everything comes to life, even a brush!

And Mickey, the cot, and Willy the chair,

All things for which you care,

Become your friends each night anew,

No matter if there are many or just a few.

They all dance and sing and play

With sword and bows dismay

Any passers by the window pane,

As the shadows play, cannot contain

Their surprise and admiration

Of such a harmonious puppet configuration.

But now the shadows have grown dim

The room begins to settle in

To slow down and finally stop

Seeming merely like a prop

Because you are asleep in bed

Rapped around a tiger's head {pillow}

Within the warm embrace of mother bear {blanket}

And under Nick the nightlight's watchful glare…