By Spence A blanket of stars pulled over my head,
A river of dreams runs next to my bed.
A-thousand-one acres of undisturbed sleep,
A fence packed and swarming with white counting sheep.
A deep sleeping fellow, absorbed by the night,
Free'd from his slumber by the first ray of light.
Eyes open, blurred vision beholds a new day,
Resuming the game which he can't help but play...
The game of life.
