They sit patiently and wait 
Until you are in a deep sleep
Then they sprint in quietly

Ten tiny wrinkled men with 
Long beards and big ears
Drills and flat head shovels

They make their way to the
Top of your head to begin the
Nightly memory excavation 

They drill they dig they scoop
Searching for exquisite perfect gems
To stuff into their bags and drag away

Like the day you got your two wheeler
The sore throat from a tonsillectomy
A tall glass of cold green Kool Aid

The Monday in middle school
When he asked you to the dance
Your highschool valedictorian speech 

Your first good paying job
The day you were married
Your first house the dog
Your first born and second
Your mother
father sister

They keep drilling digging scooping 
Until the first light sneaks through the curtain
They stitch you up pack up and drag those gems away.