Lovely Lucy
Lovely Lucy, tired of pretending to be asleep
Crawls out and lingers about her bed;
Indulging for a moment in a reverie where sheep,
Donning colourful garments made of human flesh forget
The point of it all and decide to play a game
In which they follow Mr. Red (‘The fat one’) in a file
As he circles the big sundial, marked nine to five,
In a proud gait – evidently aware of his fame.
Here, the chance ringing of a neighbour’s doorbell
Jerks Lucy out of the dream, into the congested beehive
Of her block and leaves her stranded before the sink,
Where Lucy brushes her lovely teeth in her nightgown pretty pink.