At night he came with our dreams
Soft-footed, wrapped in shadows
We called him the Sandman
Silver-tonged and sleepy-eyed
He spun tales of witches and magic
Or fairies and winged horses
He would leap from house to house
While clouds chased each other across the sky
I saw him once
(I leant out of my window)
Frost touching my fingertips
The moon clothed him in furious light
In his hands he held the dreams
Of the whole world
—By Sorcha C., 19, England