To Sleep...

To sleep,
Perchance to dream
Of happy times
And pleasant things,
Crossing the skies
On angels' wings,
Of youth's sweet song,
Heart beating strong,
Life full of zest,
Tasting it at its best,
But then to wake,
Crotchety, cold,
With aching bones,
Weak and old...

Alfred Charasz
Copyright 2006 Alfred Charasz