November 23, 2008
By Lucia Hadella, Talent, OR

Night, night little girl
Time to let your dreams swirl
Hush, hush close your eyes
And stare up at the foreign skies
Of Sleepland

You’ve been missed
You’ve been awaited
Your clothes left here are long outdated
Dropped onto the sticky grass
Crumpling and crumbling
As they watched time pass
Small voles have made a nest of them
Stuffed through holes to rest young in
You left from here all bare but skin
The voles thank you, little girl

So will you dance, dance little girl
Dance before the whole strange world?
Let the white moon bathe you in its rays
Like a lover lighting you with praise?
And will you sing, sing of everything
Sing of summer sing of spring?
Sing within the fire ring
Like a night bird, little girl?

Oh, you’ll be missed
You’ll be awaited
By this realm that you’ve created
But you’ll be back to visit soon
To hear again the owl’s low croon
And gaze upon a bejeweled sky
And feel again the willow’s sigh
That brushes leaves ’cross your snowy skin
And makes you want to return again
To Sleepland

The author's comments:
This poem is the result of an English assignment; we were asked to write a poem about a foreign place, and mine was Sleepland, since I didn't feel like writing about "real" places, such as Africa, Spain, or England. You can think of Sleepland as a place one goes when asleep, or else some forest, in or out of our world, where all the rules are different and everything is simpler.

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