Oh, to be in my little room
where I can dream and sleep,
as up the pallet of my walls
shadow-brushes creep.
Lands and lives and lifetimes
appear and dance above my head.
Al the angels of heaven sing
and carry me to my bed.
With sleepy eye, the dreamer
watches as night becomes day...
a fiery hand throws the sun around
to chase the darkness away.
Shaking out the last bits of night
light wields its broom with glee,
sweeping every little place
where the night could play for me.