Sleep Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Chimneypots with the fire gone out,
The mathematician, the rich, the sick,
Take a break from the waking world,
Close their eyes, with the slow, the quick.

The phone may ring on its plastic perch,
It's screech unheard in the sleeper's zone.
All men drink at the pool of dream,
All men kneel at the pool alone

Turbulent day with its heres and theres,
Closes its door. Good riddance I say
To its whys and wherefores, its snaps its snares,
Bring on the moon and the Milky Way

I lay me down with a questionmark...
Puzzles are solved before the dawn
The wizard who works in the webs of dark,
Has found an answer for every one!