You’ve got these friends,
That we can’t see,
Is that normal
When you’re three?
I only ask,
Because, you see,
If you weren’t three,
I’m sure that we
Would worry
For your mental health,
And take you off
With measured stealth,
To shrinks,
And folk who nod and smile,
Jotting notes and making files,
Deciding what to label you,
Whilst we would worry
…What to do?
But you are three,
And so I think,
That we can live
Without a shrink,
Without a label and concern,
But at what age
Do these friends turn
From playmates into
Mental woes,
When is it that,
Friends become foes?
I ask because I’m puzzled, see,
Why is it okay when you’re three,
But never okay later on,
Why prescribe drugs ‘til friends are gone?
Pooky's Poems 
This is wonderful Pooky!I had an imaginery friend called Grace, and she in turn had another friend called Maureen who I hated because she kept trying to take Grace away from me!! Work that one out if you can!! Lol 😄 terrific poem. Xx
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Oh that is BRILLIANT! Only a child could come up with that one!
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Wonderful poem that raises some interesting points. A few months ago an Ask Reddit thread invited users to share tales about their children’s imaginary friends. They got thousands of responses. Below is one of my favourite:
“When I was little my “imaginary” friend was named Bobby, I distinctly remember him existing and being real. On day when I was 5 or 6 I was going somewhere with my aunt and cousins and I was talking to Bobby. My cousin got pissed that I was talking to someone she couldn’t fathom was there (we are same age) .
She unbuckled Bobby’s seatbelt and threw him out of the van. I screamed bloody murder at the top of my lungs and wouldn’t stop, so my Aunt went back for him. She had to turn around twice on the highway and drive really slow because I was the only one who could see him and pick him up. While she was crawling at a snails pace on the highway, she got pulled over by a cop. I was still screaming in the back seat and told the cop that my cousin killed Bobby and she needed to go to jail!
Needless to say my aunt had a hard time trying to explain to the cop that he was my imaginary friend. But while we were pulled over Bobby came up to the car and said he was fine, claimed in through the window. I told my aunt it was ok Bobby was back now. When the officer came back. I told him that Bobby wasn’t dead just hurt.
The officer then proceeded to talk to my aunt for a second and then asked my 6 year old cousin to get out of the car. He told her she was going to jail for trying to kill an imaginary friend and put her in the back of his car for 5 minutes. My cousin never messed with Bobby or me again.”
Loved that policeman’s sense of humour and ingenious response to situation. However it does make me wonder, what his response would have been, if the main character of this story was not 5 or 6, but 25/26 or older. 😉
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Oh my goodness, that’s an amazing story – though as you say it’s interesting to re-imagine he scenario with a grown man rather than a child with the imaginary friend.
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Has to be a secret friend…
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Another terrific poem, Pooky.
My son had an imaginary friend who was his brother. He wanted a brother so badly that he imagined one. I was always getting into trouble for sitting on the poor little chap. 🙂
I on the other hand am 63 and I talk to my Big Ted on a daily basis, and I love him so much he is always with me. He has travelled the world with me. He is my companion and confidant. I’ve spoken to a psychologist about this and he’s told me as long as I don’t think the bear is responding, there is no problem. Big Ted fills a huge emptiness in my life and that is a good thing. There’s nothing wrong with a little eccentricity so long as we don’t harm anyone else. 🙂
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I love your tales of Big Ted, he really makes me smile and I’m glad he brings you so much joy. Also, I think when you talk to him, you’re talking to Rod too and that’s not in any way strange, in fact I think it’s rather beautiful. x
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Don’t we all need a close friend like that at times? (Imaginary or not)
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Absolutely agreed
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Very insightful! I had one. Did you? Now I just talk to myself.
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No I didn’t, I always wanted one but (probably because I had a mother who regularly hallucinated) I thought I would actually be able to see and hear the friend and didn’t get around to doing the imagining bit.
I talk to myself a LOT though.
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I’m the only one who understands what I’m talking about!
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Me too!
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actually sometimes even I don’t understand what I’m talking about…
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