Just a crummy old twin mattress
It's a ruddy little thing.
Whenever I roll over
It will poke me with a spring.
I'm not the first to own it,
I'm glad it's not the floor.
It's coffee stained and ugly.
You can see it from my door.
It's never had a box spring
I had to find one on the street.
When I have my dinner,
I sit on it to eat.
It's a crummy old twin mattress,
But it's one that we once shared.
Were lots of time you held me
When you were the only one who cared.
Every time I roll over
In my back the mattress digs.
And when I wake up throughout the night I cry
Because my mattress is too BIG.
Comments
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That is a really sweet poem Josh. I can actually feel the mattress dig into my back as I read this. I can also feel the emotions surrounding your circumstances. Sweet, with a touch of melancoly and realism. Things will get better. *hugs*
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This is cute. It's sweet too. Good use of poetic elements. Really nice, relaxed, beat. Thanks for sharing.
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