SANDMAN

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
sandman

Submitted: July 23, 2016

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Submitted: July 23, 2016

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his head shaped like a crescent moon
his eyes, a starry black
he has a cache of secret sand
he carries in a sack
.
he sprinkles it upon you
as you lay there counting sheep
sounds faintly like a music box
that twinkles you to sleep
.
sometimes when you awaken
you may find a little grit
it's said there's sleep left in your eyes
perhaps there is a bit


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