Pretty curtains swaying silent,
of finest cotton's white their spin.
The day in sunlight was so vibrant,
now night's caressing cool my skin.

My cheek is resting on soft pillows;
a quilt takes off the evening's chill.
I hear the owl's howl in the willows,
the nightly hour standing still.

My eyes so tired, I let them wander,
not one thought disturbs my head.
Then I see him over yonder,
his presence shines above my bed.

Shiny like a silver dollar,
round like Grandpa Lynni's face.
Indescribable in color,
his power with me since I said Grace.

Full and fat and way too close,
he makes me count my sheep.
He claims the night like a white ghost,
I'm laying here, can't go to sleep.

If there is help to this disaster,
I really, truly like to know.
So I can fall asleep much faster,
immune to full moon's monthly glow.