Three in the Morning.

I wrote this because it encaptures the dream world of many.

It's three in the morning and I'm half asleep,
Thinking on things, none of them deep.
Pictures are flashing before my eyes,
Some very pretty, others make me cry.

An innocent vision has become quite grotesque;
A twist in my mind has unsettled a nest,
Of large killer spiders, climbing onto my bed;
A bite on my body could render me dead!

I wake with a start, sweat pouring from me;
Dashing downstairs, I make a nice cup of tea.
Suitably refreshed, my sanity restored,
I return to my room and the dream I ignore.

Drifting once more, my mind takes a turn;
I'm wandering beside a wee Scottish burn.
I've slipped on the pathway and I've fallen in;
Only to notice, a whopping great fin.

It approaches me rapidly, at an awesome pace,
My head goes under and I see its face.
'Jaws' is a minnow, in comparison to this;
He's going to give me a razor sharp kiss.

With teeth descending to take a large lump
Of flesh from my body; when suddenly, THUMP!
I've fallen out of bed; it's a wonderful thing!
Saved by the bell, by my alarm clock's ring!

Copyright November 2006 Robert Cartwright-Davidson

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Three in the Morning.

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