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