My Bed is an Air Balloon

When night falls my bed is an air balloon. I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. I float above treetops where fluttertufts are sleeping And flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping; Ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glass, A floog with her velvet nose bent to the grass. Such treasures I spy on! My bed in the trees Swings me up high, like a circus trapeze. Now the cool, night-rustling air Slips through my finger-gaps, ripples my hair; Now we glide over water, the moon''''s silver light Blown by a cloudpuff into the bight, Adrift on the sea where the dream-shapes float; When night falls my bed is a sailing boat. A beautifully presented picture book with two front covers, the text can be read from front to back and vice versa. The mirror form poem meets in the middle in a stunning centrepiece image as the two children in the story (twins, one in an air balloon, the other a sailing boat) meet in the clouds! See more