Towards The Cloak Of Slumber Poem by Heath Gunn

Tiredness creeps over me,
Dragging me to sleep.
Although I try to fight it,
My eyes open, I can’t keep.
A warm and fuzzy feeling,
A nodding heavy head.
And I really should make my weary way,
To my waiting bed.
But I’m comfy on the sofa,
It’s soft, and snug, and warm.
And to lay here for a little while,
Will really do no harm.
So I gently shuffle shoulders,
Back into their dip.
Lay my cheek against the cushion,
That extends down to my hip.
Then I’m drifting, slowly drifting,
Towards the cloak of slumber.
With no need for counting sheep,
To each give one a number.
The darkness falls upon me,
And eyes begin to flicker.
I’m entering my dream-state,
My heart beats slightly quicker.
I’m chased out of an alley,
By a barking rabid dog.
And as I come to exit,
I find I’m in a muddy bog.
Wading through the water,
Waste deep in giant squid.
I’m hovering above myself,
As a little kid.
Suddenly I’m an astronaut,
Blasting into space.
Then switching I’m and athlete,
In a grand Olympic race.
And as I run across the line,
I’m back into the bog.
Waste deep in those giant squid,
Still hounded by that dog.
The squid have disappeared now,
And the dog’s barking subsided.
And I’m standing in a bakery,
Watching fresh dough being divided.
The homely smell of fresh baked bread,
Wakes me from my sleep.
And like clouds, my dreams will drift away,
For none I’m meant to keep.

Heath Gunn