LIFE OF A BED:JASMA

I am broad and rectangular;
A prized antique
Made of dark oak.
Ripples of lavender,
Satin are on me;
Fluffy, feather pillows
Rest on my bosom.

I can see all around me
The warm room
The fire crackling in the grate,
The pictures of John and Mary,
On the dressing table
Marion's toys, on her rosewood
Gold-handled cabinet.

They take excellent care of me;
Marion cries into my pillows,
Jumps on me with happiness and glee.
I am a place for retreat.
I give comfort and sympathy,
To her, as to a weary traveler,
Yearning for sleep.

I am cleaned and polished every morning
My crumpled sheets are washed and ironed
And placed afresh on me,
Like a veil on a bridal crown
Then Marion reclines on me and closes up,
Like a sleeping bud that unfolds,
Next morning like a blossoming rose.

I am satisfied
Content with what I am.
I give them comfort
Gathering them into my embrace and shelter,
As to a weary traveler
Yearning for sleep.

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