There are some people who tell good stories,
With endless fairy tale inventories.
Some with ones that hurt your abs,
Some’s would fit good science labs.
Some’s might make your eyes get leaky
Some’s will make every door more creaky.
But even if you master every single myth
You’ll still not be the best fairy tale smith.
That title goes to a one you know,
The one who knows how to weave and sew.
The one that paints your dreams at night,
In which you are a beam of light.
Is it sandman? Might be, maybe.
That’s been its name since I was a baby.
It builds a new one on a nightly basis,
Giving you a good rest, a perfect oasis.
Sandman’s stories are never mundane,
Some are normal and some arcane.
Sandman calls your friends as well,
And your family and that’s quite swell.
Plus some people that you don’t know,
Does called Jane and some called Joe.
One day I want to say “Hey, thank you,
For the stories that you grew.”
I hope we meet in some good dream,
While gently drifting far downstream.