When you do fall at last ‘fore your eyes close,

her smil’ is one to know that she will wake.

Perfect, I shall admit the ailment impose.

From this I speak, do try, pray tell, escape.

For in your mind, you see, diff’rence to be

something, so strange, rev’rent and so not bleak

prospects of muse see two of the unique.

Tranquil repose of one. She lay softly

in dark, she knows: you aren’t alone. Night there

second of two has worse exper’reinces,

turn and thrash ‘gainst while he has a nightmare.

For what is known, you pay the price: pences.

Is sleep a bliss, when the dark does scare me?

I love to sleep, though where else could I be?