i remember nap time long ago,

a daily rest i’d always **forgo**.

i’d kick, i’d hide, i’d try to stray,

but sleep would always steal my day.

i _hated_ the dreams, so strange, unkind,

the way they’d slip and leave my mind.

but worse than that, what made me

weep, was when i fell into a dreamless sleep.

the endless void, so vast, so deep,

it swallowed me whole whilst i slept.

no dreams, no thoughts, no sounds,

just empty space all wrapped around.

but now i’m more older, more _tired_ too,

and rest is something dear to me.

i **long** for dreams, both odd and wild,

and yes, that void, once feared so much,

now seems like something nice to rest in.

so i lay my head with care,

finding my peace within the void.

for sleep is not the foe i once knew,

but something kind, a **confidant** most true.