When night falls my bed is an air balloon. I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. I float above treetops where the nub-nubs are sleepingand flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping;ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glass,a floog with its velvet nose bent to the grass.
Such treasures I count on. My bed in the treesswings me up high, like a circus trapeze. Now the cool, night-rustling airslips through my finger-gaps, ripples my hair; now we glide over water, the moon's silver lightblown by a cloudpuff into the bight,adrift on the sea where the dream-shapes float;when night falls my bed is a sailing boat.
When night falls my bed is a sailing boatadrift on the sea where the dream-shapes float,blown by a cloudpuff into the bight. Now we slide over water; the moon's silver lightlaps at my finger-gaps, ripples my hair;now the cool, night-rustling airswings me up high, like a circus trapeze. Such treasures I count on my bed in the trees -a floog with its velvet nose bent to the grass,ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glassand flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping.
I float above treetops where the nub-nubs are sleeping;I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. When night falls my bed is an air balloon. A beautifully presented picture book with two front covers, the text can be read from front to back and vice versa.
The mirror form poem meets in the middle in a stunning centrepiece image as the two children in the story (twins, one in an air balloon, the other a sailing boat) meet in the clouds!
