Those wheels that are within wheels,
with their belts circling and spinning,
in an array of neon panchromatic –
this was a childhood Nyx apparition
and she made a reunion just last night.
When truly and absolutely exhausted
from the life of living a childhood
at the close of day – almost every day,
bathed, tucked-in, fighting sleep
wheels were waiting behind eyelids.
Determined to detain this hallucination –
as best a child could resolve a thing;
when it appeared, as a restless alarm
spinning so brightly and then fading
fading to nothing leaving just sleep.
Coming oftenly, absent occasionally
this bittersweet nocturnal specter
replaced falling and dragons, demons
and haunting fears afflicting other minors,
returning if the pulleys were missing.
When dreams fade and mares cease
and waking hours command such tasks
the refuge of wakefulness replaces
frightening incubus of nighttime starts
the grown now pining for puerility.
The halting haze of bedtime memoirs
reappeared unexpectedly hailed
amidst a cyclone of exposed doubts,
the cheered neon spinning, whirling
away until in sleep again disappeared.
Where do these vivid pulleys abide
that they might be found when needful
for trusted rest of juvenile peacefulness?
mistress, spinning wheels within wheels
reunited now much too infrequently.