MEANDER
A sleepwalker named Alexander
Left his bed so he could meander.
Eyes closed and snoring,
Arms out before him,
He ended up on the verandah.
But fate had in store a cruel twist
For this poor lonely somnambulist.
The next thing he knew
There was doggy-doo,
And his feet landed right in its midst!
So in future, my friend Alexander,
Take heed of a humble bystander:
Please stay in your bed,
Sheets over your head,
And don’t try to sleep’ly meander.
James Aitchison
- Submitted in response to Poetry Prompt #31
