Climbing into his bed,
Feeling a bit scared,
Knowing his thoughts,
Would get the beter of him,
In his head;
Now he was strolling down the park,
Peering at the glimmering sight,
Something with a spark.
Closer and closer,
The further he went,
Ultimately he knelt,
Near the shimmering place,
Looking at it in a daze.
Getting enveloped inside the light,
Did not feel quite right.
He was drowning in quicksand,
The last we ever saw of him
Was his hand.