Sandman and The Insomniac

One of those night of insomnia can some how bring out the rhymes that will turn your mind inside out. With some help from my 'sandman' friend who shall be known as 'Dusty'. Equal credits go to Dusty for this creation. Here is the Sandman working his magic on an insomniac.

Some days it gets so cold inside,
Her bones ache and and the pain resides,
She closes her eyes and thoughts begin to wonder,
Where would she disappear to if she could wander.

Sandman whispers:
Beyond the lands, the clouds call to her.
Soft, fluffy and full of wonder.

She whispers:
Sandman come and drizzle your sand,
It has crossed twelve on the hour hand.

The Sandman wards off the naughty imps that scamper about,
Picking at her mind and messing with her aloud.
"What this?" They say... 'How about...?' They wonder,
What thoughts may you have on the matter?

The more they prick,
The more they pry,
They discover little tricks,
To make this little girl cry.

Sandman says:
Poking and picking the rascals do best,
Ignore these imbeciles, why not you take a rest?
So go on crawl into bed,
On the pillow you should rest your heavy head.

Then lull comes with the breeze of dreams,
The Sandman's magic is working it seems,
To sweep her away from her current worries,
To the depths of her thought the burdens she carries.

How she longs for the sounds of raindrops pattering on the window seal,
The repetitive splattering against the steel,
But once nature provides the request,
Rest assured, the bed will be her nest.

Embedded and tangled under the covers,
Unwilling to waken when the rain splashes through the shutters,
Rolling under covers, turning left and then right,
How long will this midway torture last through the night.

She violently tries to turn her mind off to the sound of white noise,
She cries to the Sandman as she has no other choice.

The Sandman says:
Your mind I conquer, if you so wish milady,
Tis the whistles of the wind and rustles of the leaves that shall be your lullaby,
Till the feathery touches of the pillow caress your head,
Sink into the warmth and comforts of your queen size bed.

So deep a slumber shall she succumb to,
With fantasies that come alive in full colour view,
Let her taste the depths of her subconscious desires,
Let her drink of the power from magnificent empires.

Time is up and the Sandman leaves,
Oh just only a wish would that be true,
Then to be awaken back to reality's peeves, And find all for naught  in her present woo.

Quite shattered and battered this vessels has become,
Over the years, the layers of scars became a large sum.

Some deep till the depths of her soul it's been buried,
Sealed with darkness and secrets she has carried.

Sandman whispers:
But the path is alight, many branches diverge and align,
Where one journeys the path is never clearly outlined ,
For what starts as a step turns to two,
The choice you make is up to you.

And so the day will begin as it always does,
A little more sunshine, a little more dew, 

Hopefully more delightful than others,
A little more sunshine for her at the pew.

And may her body heal, both spirit and soul,
Her mind reformed and solid as gold,
Till another sleepless night patronises her,
The Sandman awaits collected to rescue her.

- SY and Dusty

Written at 01:59H on 9th October 2015

At 61 Wong Clan and where Dusty resides

SY is a 'Jacqueline of all trades' who loves wearing plaids.
She doesn't believe in things that fade and fulfils the promises that she made.
She seeks the hearts of the troubled, to be a listener in times when things are doubled.
She's the kind who stands in the gap, who will only call it quits when it's a wrap.