No matter your age or your weight or your sex,
If you like Raisin Bran or prefer Chex,
There comes a time when the day is all done
You bid fond farewell to the moon and the sun
And fade into fancy, a limerent land
Where nothing is normal and banished is bland,
Where poets can prosper and perchance partake
In fantasy simply for fantasy’s sake.
I wish you good venture into such a place
As the slackness of sleep falls fast on your face.
Sleep now, and linger beyond the awake
Where nothing is real but nothing is fake.
The Daily Travesty 