When I sleep I dream of things
I’ll get done today, brass rings
I’ll grasp, grand schemes come true,
the looking glass I’ll sally through.
But now I find, once I’m awake,
my plans are slightly more prosaic.
Like tiling walls, then, if I choose,
installing a new low flush loo.
I’ll do the things within my grasp
Though my brass ring be made of wax.