Poem number 303
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The End Of The Day
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Sleep, my toddler, sleep and dream
Of slides and sandpits, cold ice-cream
Of climbing frames and Lego blocks
Of Batman t-shirts, Star Wars socks
Of Nanny’s house and biscuit tin
With chocolate cookies hid within
Of shopping, sitting in the trolley
Swinging feet and fruity lolly
Mr Tumble, Baby Jake
Cups of milk and bits of cake
Sleep well, my toddler, sleep and rest
Sweet dreams of all you love the best
I’ll keep you safe the whole night through
And when I sleep I’ll dream of you.
Tag: dreams
373 – Last Night I Dreamt Of Slytherin
Poem number 373
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Last Night I Dreamt Of Slytherin
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Last night I dreamt of Slytherin
Once more I was fifteen
We lounged beneath the Hogwarts lake
The light was slimy green
We practiced funny curses
On the first years for a while
Then talked a little quidditch
And the finer points of style
We cheated on our homework
Hexed a post-owl, turned it red
We downed some stolen butterbeer
Then wandered off to bed
Those heady days, those perfect times
Now distant, blurry, dim
That indolent and selfish boy
Was lost, and I’m not him
It’s only in my dreams that I
Can feel so young and free
Only when I dream do I
Become that better me
Tonight I’ll dream of Slytherin
Of light that’s tinted green
Those heady days, those perfect times
When I was just fifteen.
397 – Bathtime Dreams
Poem Number 397
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Bathtime Dreams
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Dr No sat in the bath, his rubber duck in hand
And dreamed of secret islands, empires, ruling over land,
He dreamed of plots so dastardly that goverments would fall
To their knees and beg for mercy, lest he subjugate them all.
He dreamed of evil henchman dressed in boiler suits with zips,
All pulling pistol-lasers from the holsters on their hips.
He dreamed of secret agents sent to foil some evil plot
And of how he’d tell them everything, and not just have them shot.
All this he dreamed, and plenty more whilst sitting in his bath –
A thousand evil plans and schemes along his evil path
But then hark! A noise! It’s footsteps! Heading swiftly through his lair!
His dreams are cast aside, he shakes the bubbles from his hair
Is this it? Is this his end? They’re coming through the door…
… It’s his mother, come to dry him. Dr No is only four.
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