(A prompt from a friend from a quote from Alice in Wonderland, "I think of at least six Impossible things before breakfast)

This morning as the chime bell rings and wakes me from my slumber,
Before the fog of fitful dreams has barely chance to pass,
And I am lifted from the spell of dreams that I was under,
Though I would gladly stay there, but wake I must, alas,
My mind is brought to focus on the things which I must ponder,
Impossible, it seems, though the thoughts of them persist, 
I haven’t even broke my fast, yet I am forced to wonder,
How it is these oddities have come to exist?
If soup spoons are not made of soup then how can they be eaten?
If teaspoons are not made of tea then how can they be drunk?
If I call you, “Honey,” does it make your temper sweeten?
Oh there’s so little time for all this thinking to be thunk, 
And cricket bats? I didn’t even know that bats liked cricket, 
And is it true that they make Persian Rugs from Persian Cats?
And if, “It’s all for show,” do I  need to buy a ticket?
And if I cook upon a, “Spit,” has my food been, “Spat?”
Oh these thoughts are troubling in their contradiction, 
As silently they, “Rattle,” around my weary head,
‘Til finally my battle with this confused affliction, 
Makes me close my eyes and sends me back to bed.