September 2006
Sprinkling star flakes around his drowsy head,
The Sandman brings on dreams departing from Will’s book just read.
Will remembers the words that his father had said,
“Waking or dreaming, you are never in bed.
Imagination is working. You have to be led.”
Whirling up snow flurries and calling upwind,
The sandman whistles a tune that is soulful
A tune that is still.
Then the Sandman gently calls, “All aboard, Will?”
His eyes close.
The clock marking the moment in time
As Will starts to doze.*
So peaceful the stillness
The Earth hasn’t even a touch of an illness.
A single note hangs suspended in air
For the moment the whole world hasn’t a care.
And sinking down into satin-soft clouds of gooey air,
Moonbeams crossing through his hair,
Far from every do and don’t and wrinkled nose,
Near to fields of wild sweet rose,
Will returns to shine and blush on distant shores.
Copyright, John R Pigate 2006
