The Sleeper

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He is no balsa wood sleeper,
His sleep is as heavy as Stonehenge.
He dreams not of shallow brooks,
His dream is deeper than the Marianas Trench.
He tosses and somersaults in bed,
His sleep is bipolar and is always disturbed.
He snores, screams and flying kicks,
His sleeping antics jolt his wife awake.
He has strange recurring dreams,
His dream is a Chinese box within a box.
He dreams he is an insomniac demon
Wrestling with Morpheus, the god of dreams.
He is a born-again somnambulist
And dreams he is a walking nightmare
Until he falls off the edge of a cliff
Into the arms of a waking nightmare
Which lulls him back to sleep.

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