Little Miss Lucy

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’!

For Image prompt @ Mag 288