To
little Miss Lucy’s tired heart and mind
The
moon was a bubbling mass of foam
That
glittered on a corner of her room
And
winter trees were lush once again
In
her dreams that were quite strange
Her
dog would even talk in her tongue
Lying
on bed, weary and half awake
Little
Lucy felt strokes of gentle lake
Hers
were dreams, surreal and crazy
Where
life was too magical, too hazy
Every
night she unlatched her mind
And
entered so solace she could find
Alas!
The mellow rustling of leaves
That
was her clock’s tick tock tick,
Pulled
her and that’s what it did say-
‘It’s
morn Lucy, be up for another school day’!