I hear the ticking clock strike ten
and know it's time for bed ''agin''.
It's time to rest my weary head,
seek solace in my crumpled bed.
So off to dreamland I will go,
sometimes with speed and sometimes slow.
My dreams are ventures I have had,
some gay and happy, others sad.
Remembering days, now long past,
they still remain, will always last.
Many are from bright days of youth,
when I searched for eternal truth.
Then I awake, sometimes in shock-
Please, someone buy my striking clock.
April-2021
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