A child weak, soft like youth
Is a lion of eye and tooth
In dreams that trickle down like sand,
Down a clock, tick-tock the hand,
And whisper sweet litanies upon the head
Becoming dancing figures within the bed.
And bestir the child in joy, in fear
Amongst fantasies close, held dear
Until the eye opens, fancies from sight
Upon the dawning of sweet light.
And the child reaches, wanting more
Of knights and dragons and fairy lore
But fumbles, they fade away
Leaving him the wonder of day.