Dormice

Hello all (I'm hoping theres at least 1 person who has discovered my blog so far),
I'd like to post a poem inspired by dormice (at the urging of my friend Emery):

Come, see through my window,
Quite ironically, I might suggest,
See the tiny dormice,
eating at the table.

I know they are weary,
but they fight the war of eternal monotony,
as the turkey sandwiches grow some lovely mold.

Refugees of dreaming teeth,
here they is,
Drubs.

So how do dormice
find their ironic conformity?
It's quite simply, truly,
sand free.