How Do Sheep Get To Sleep?

Although I don't know for a fact that I'm right,

I think I can guess what you think of at night;

The things that you wonder that swirl in your head,

At night in your room in the warmth of your bed.

Like why's the sky blue and why's water so wet,

And why's it that elephants never forget?

The answers to questions you wish that you knew,

While lying there calmly with nothing to do.

But once you grow tired of thoughts such as these,

At last you'll decide to start catching some Zs;

Replacing these questions about in your head,

With sheep in a line to be counted instead.

And fully prepared for the bedtime events,

Of running and jumping up over the fence,

They'll take to the skies leaping up into flight,

Like puffy white clouds in the moon's silver light.

First one becomes two and then two become four,

Then four become eight and that eight becomes more;

You'll find yourself counting forever it seems,

Till drifting away to the land of your dreams.

But once you're curled up in a warm comfy heap,

Both silent and still barely making a peep,

In slumber that's sound and impressively deep,

Just how do the sheep get to sleep?

Perhaps they take baths in big bubble-filled tubs,

With bright rubber ducks and their favorite toy subs;

Till all their white coats get so pillowy soft,

They float through the air with an effortless waft.

And then as they ready to get in their beds,

Perhaps they get dressed in their slumber-time threads;

From dinosaur onesies complete with clawed feet,

To PJs with cupcakes and all types of treat.

Pajamas picked out and their wool now like silk,

They may want to drink some warm glasses of milk.

A beverage for bedtime they guzzle like cream,

For trouble-free slumber with dream after dream.

And maybe before turning in for the night,

They tend to their teeth so they're pearly and white;

With brushes and paste that's both minty and green,

For show-stopping smiles that shine brilliant and clean.

It's possible too, all the girls and the boys,

Pick bedtime companions from out of their toys;

Like big purple dolphins or floppy-eared hares,

Or colorful llamas and grizzly old bears.

And once they're picked out, the next part of this phase,

Is tucking them under their patterned duvets;

On top of their pillows with circles and stripes,

And print-covered sheets of all fabrics and types.

Or maybe their journey to Nod's helped along,

By comforting tones of a lullaby's song;

With melodies whispered both quiet and calm,

Sung softly and sweet by their wooly sheep mom.

And if music doesn't, a story should do,

And every so often they may just get two;

With signature reading that isn't half bad,

Performed with some flair by their wooly sheep dad.

Do sheep pray their prayers and then say their 'good nights'?

Take trips to the restroom then turn out the lights?

Or clear up their minds taking breaths long and deep,

While dozing off slowly until they're asleep?

On whether this is or this isn't the way,

I'm simply not sure so I can't really say.

Despite this I hope maybe one day we might,

Find all of these answers, just not here tonight.

So now the time's come to curl into a heap,

Lie silent and still barely making a peep.

To let your eyes shut and start drifting away,

And leave all these questions for some other day.

Like why's the sun yellow and why's sand so dry?

And why's it that penguins have wings but can't fly?

Do skies reach as high as the oceans go deep?

And yes, how do sheep get to sleep?

                                        -End-