When night falls my bed is an air balloon.I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon.I float above treetops where the nub-nubs are sleepingand flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping;ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glass,a floog with its velvet nose bent to the grass. Such treasures I count on. My bed in the treesswings me up high, like a circus trapeze.Now the cool, night-rustling airslips through my finger-gaps, ripples my hair; now we glide over water, the moon's silver lightblown by a cloudpuff into the bight,adrift on the sea where the dream-shapes float;when night falls my bed is a sailing boat.When night falls my bed is a sailing boatadrift on the sea where the dream-shapes float,blown by a cloudpuff into the bight.Now we slide over water; the moon's silver lightlaps at my finger-gaps, ripples my hair;now the cool, night-rustling airswings me up high, like a circus trapeze.Such treasures I count on my bed in the trees -a floog with its velvet nose bent to the grass,ponds strung with starlight that glitter like glassand flowering hills where the whifflepigs go creeping.I float above treetops where the nub-nubs are sleeping;I sail through the slipsiverse, close by the moon. When night falls my bed is an air balloon.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!