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.