Bubbling morning full of crisp cold,
I peel from beneath the wrappings
Wishing for more sleep to fill
With translucent dreaming.
Tonsils quake from morning wake
And hum a lullaby
All I want is one more hour
To pass the twilight gate
And look into the starry eyes
Of Shaper King, the Story child.
But I must wake into the cold
And trudge in sparkling jewels
Until the death of the lion head
And wander back to Nod.