by Nick Gisburne
They call me Sleepy Jack, the broken boy,
But cannot comprehend what I can see.
My gift is no beguiling, borrowed toy.
The strangeness I explore belongs to me.
Connected to the long, forever night,
Its doorways always open to my touch.
Another world, another dream’s delight.
New people, friends. We talk, perhaps too much.
They wonder why I sleep but never stay.
Awakened by reality, they fade.
When all I see in daylight is the grey,
I think I could, but then I feel afraid.
Tonight I know I’m braver than before.
I step inside and let them lock the door.
