Down

I don't do much
Really, I don't do anything.
Just lay around
Wherever you left me
And wait for you to get home.

Any even after you're home
I really don't do anything.
You might notice if I were gone,
But not until you went looking for me.

The Books you place gently
On the shelf when you're done.
The pens and paper
Always snug in their drawers.
And God forbid you leave the house
Without your pillow in its proper place
At the head of the bed.

But me?
What of me?
You kick me to the floor
When you're done with me.
Expecting me to just lay there
And wait until you want me again.
And what's worse is,
I do.

The television laughs at me
From its pedestal on your desk.
Because you give it all your attention
As you go to sleep.
And me,
You just toss around as you please,
Kicking me into place,
Casting me aside on nights you don't want me.

And still, I cover you and comfort.
Still I keep you warm.
Because I need you,
And it's all I know.