My Bed

Small and snug, it gently swung.

And beside it, another bed:

Bigger, and with the two people I loved most.

My cradle where I lay asleep,

After mother fed, and sang, and made me safe.

A new bed now, but it was old.

Two sisters had used it before.

A prison, more like,

And in a new room.

If I needed help, I would cry long and loud.

It didn’t last, not too long,

Another sister, new and small, took my place.

A bunk bed soon was just the thing.

Two bunks, four little girls,

Sharing a room.

I was on the bottom-

Heights are scary.

And when her blankets hung down,

My sister found that I was a trickster,

And a thief.

The bunk beds stayed, though the sisters changed.

Six of us now, fighting for space.

But one day, a room of my own,

And a bed fit just for me.

Books were piled down on the end,

To read at my leisure, late at night.

My bed followed me when I left,

And struck out on my own.

And then, another change.

I was sharing again.

A ring on my finger, and a partner in life,

My bed became a kind of delight.

For sleeping, and snuggling, and making love,

For talking, and planning, and mending a fight.

Less quiet now,

My husband snores,

And a phone replaced my books.

For years that bed was ours alone.

The bed’s the same, but now fits three:

My husband, me, and the love we made.

A little girl, fair of face.

She has a bed, all her own.

Where I put her every night!

But she seems to think my bed is best.

Just goes to show she has good taste.

So in between me and him, she has made her spot.

Curled up, spread out, or holding me tight,

Sometimes she twists and kicks my face,

Or she pushes her dad right out.

I wish she would go back to her own,

But when she does, I'll miss her so.

I don’t know what my next bed will be,

Or who it will hold throughout the night.

Perhaps one day it’ll just be me,

Dreaming of these days long past.

But I know my bed is more than just,

A place to lay my head.

It is a map of life.