Monday, January 26, 2015

A Traveling Poem

This bed is all wrong.
This bed's not for me.
This bed has a bump
Where a hollow should be.

The sheets are wrong, too.
They're stiff and they're starchy,
And make my pajama pants
Crackly and sparkly.

The pillows are wrong --
I use only one.
The maniac making this bed
Used a ton!

There's two pillows here,
And two pillows there.
In case that's too little
There's even a spare!

The blanket's wrong, too.
It stops at my hips.
And, because of my snacks,
Smells like chocolate and chips.

The headboard's too short.
There's no footboard at all.
And I'm sure I can hear people
Out in the hall.

The clock ticks past midnight.
It tocks half past one.
By the time I start sleeping
It's time to be done.

Truth be it known
The room is just fine.
If a problem exists
It's entirely mine.

The mattress is comfy.
The pillows are fluffly.
The TV works well,
And the room isn't stuffy.

I prefer my own bed.
It's the best bed for me.
Because when I reach out
You're where you should be.




© 2015 Mark Feggeler

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