MY bed is like a little boat. My mom helps me in when I embark. She girds me in my sailor’s coat and starts me in the dark. At night, I go on board and say good night to all my friends on shore. I shut my eyes and sail away and see and hear no more.
And sometimes things to bed I take as prudent sailors have to do, perhaps a slice of chocolate cake, perhaps a toy or two. All night across the dark we steer, but when the day returns at last, safe in my room, beside the pier, I find my vessel fast.
