mundane musing the thirty-first

the bed

had neither springs nor frame

just two thin mattresses upon twin pads

held up by the floor

just big enough for two and a baby

stretched out like sausages feet entwined

arms reaching head-ward for the wall

sheets a tempest of poly-cotton blend

of course, baby commandeered

the nest of blankets

treating them like odious intruders

whilst mama valiantly refused to relinquish

the sliver of bed she owned

and papa was satisfied, baby’s feet

massaging his neck with

the innocent violence of slumber

and though they woke every morning

bleary-eyed and muscle-sore

they wouldn’t have it any other way

because the cocoon of love

was far more important than

a good night’s sleep

(written 16 april 2018)