The Realm Beneath the Cushions
Also known as, The Don’t Explore Zone
In the abyss of the sofa, where forgotten crumbs descend,
And into the shadows, where the gleaming lights tend to bend,
Nestled between the cushions and concealed beneath,
Lies a secret world, quietly breathing underneath.
A peculiar universe, it curiously thrives alone,
A mystical place, unlike any other zone.
Here, the lintpickers dance in a whimsical ballet,
While crumb-munchers murmur and grumble in the alley.
A domain where fuzzies and frizzies prance around,
And congregations of dust bunnies are commonly found.
They gather in secrecy, in this hidden route,
Creating a sanctuary, where their mysteries sprout.
Yet, deeper still, beneath the cushioned tower,
Far below, where neither fuzzy nor frizzy cower,
In the profound depths of the aged, grey couch,
Dwells the Crack Monster, and oh, he’s quite the grouch.
He growls and mumbles, in his secluded niche,
Munching and crunching, on an old, discarded switch.
He spits and sputters, in his perpetual dismay,
Frightening the fuzzies and frizzies far, far away.
So, if ever your fingers delve deep into the couch’s seam,
Beware of the Crack Monster, lurking in the unseen.
For in this enchanted realm, beneath the cushions so stout,
A world of wonder and fright quietly plays out.
Lost between the cushions?
Find solace in more tales of the soul.
Your claps echo in my quiet.






