Off to Neverland

When the opaque haze of Night surrounds thee,
thy bed of powder and shells beckons
 and calls thee to lay; still as a corpse.                                                                                                                

Sleep’s nocturnal hand caresses the lids of thy eyes,
like the hand of the patient soldier
slowly tracing the trigger of his gun...                                                                                                                        

Then suddenly, in a smoldering cloud
comes the cloaked Sandman,
riding on his horse,
with his cavalry of timeless grains!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

He plays his bugle lullaby,
shrouds thee with a blanket of pansy incense,
cradles thee with dreams
and hushes thee into eternal Slumber...