Mum tucked Freddie in bed and said, “Goodnight.”
She blew a kiss, then switched off the light.
Softly, she then closed his bedroom door tight.
Alone in the dark, he heard, so he thought
a muffled, snuffled, sniffling kind of snort.
He snuggled up to Teddy, hoping for support.
He listened in silence, and that was when
The muffled, snuffled, sniffling snort was heard again.
He threw Teddy at the noise, but his aim was thin.
Freddie was sure that somebody was there.
He lay peeking; he couldn’t help but stare
At the darkened spot near his bedroom chair.
Who was it who watched him as he slept?
From darkened shadows. He had to accept.
Whoever it was would be hard to detect
“Hello,” whispered Freddie, “who’s in my room?”
Softly murmuring in the nighttime gloom.
Suddenly, there was a vroom and a zoom.
Scared, Freddie switched on his bedside light
Cloaked by a pillow, he hoped to catch sight
Of just who had given him such a fright.
Calmly standing at the end of the bed
A little boy in a gold-buttoned coat of red
Snickering as he wobbled and bobbed his head
With huge ears and a large, red, bulbous nose
Dressed in green-topped socks over black ribbed hose
Shiny red boots, neatly laced with red bows
His tufted hair was a light shade of black
Spiked sideways, upwards, on top and around the back
He stood silently, looking this way and then that
Enormous eyes, coloured a deep bluish green
The strangest colour that Freddie had ever seen
The little boy looked furtive, scanning the scene
The strangest boy Freddie had ever seen
Trevor must have been left over from Halloween
He bounced on the bed like it were a trampoline
Chubby little fingers on chubby hands
His knees were knobbly, his legs were thin strands
He bounced, like his legs were made of elastic bands
“What’s your name?” But no reply, however.
“Bob, Ted, or something else altogether?”
For want of a better name. “I’ll call you Trevor.”
Trevor came close, gave a big smile, then a wink
He stuck out his tongue, a sort of yellowish pink
Freddie realised his breath really stinks
Freddie soon recognised one thing as true
Trevor was naughty, naughty through and through
His mischievousness stuck to him like sticky glue.
He threw toys from the toy box, and what’s more.
Clothes once folded neatly in the drawer
were thrown, scattered over the bedroom floor
Remote-controlled cars taken off their track.
Crashing them into the wall with a forceful crack
Giggling when Freddie said, “Stop! Put them back”
Trevor hung, then swung from the ceiling light
Making chimpanzee noises, such a sight
Howling, screaming in the hush of the night
He climbed up the front of the wardrobe door
Then, parachuted to the bedroom floor
Landing on the clothes he’d thrown from the drawers
With a wax crayon, he drew on the wall
Funny faces in a thick purple scrawl
Freddie laughed; he laughed loudly at it all
The more Freddie laughed, the more Trevor played
The longer Freddie laughed, the longer Trevor stayed
But couldn’t help laughing at Trevor’s escapades
Trevor slam-dunked the bouncy basketball.
Kicked Freddie’s football hard against the wall
Fought with Freddie’s teddy in a fierce free-for-all
Ted’s stuffing flew here, there, and everywhere
Nothing remained of the little brown bear
Then, a familiar voice shouted up the stairs.
Trevor vanished in a cloud of red smoke
He’d left such a mess with many toys broke
No longer funny, it was no longer a joke.
“Freddie, what’s that noise?” “What’s all that ruction?”
“Sounds like an earthquake or an eruption”
Mum opened Freddie’s door and saw the destruction.
”Freddie!” “What happened?” “This is not clever”
He hung his head in shame; he knew Mum would never
understand about his new friend Trevor.
Trevor had gone, but not gone forever.
