To Know That Comfort

The inane ramblings of someone who recently spent a night in his old bed at his parents house.

To know the comfort of my old bed,
Those tear stained pillows on which my head
Has lain in sorrow and in joy,
An in an instant man becomes boy.

The sleep no adult can undergo,
Beneath the covers the child below
Dreams great visions and all the while,
His protective parents look on and smile.

The pillows lifeless, feet sticking out,
Yet a great pleasure to return to that
Bed which was the scene of such
Great battles, pirates and so much.

Preserved by loving parents who
Never forgot the boy they knew,
He would return, and when he did
Would surely sleep like a big kid.

Reviews

[Pax]

its quite beautiful.... nothing really beats the feeling of relief or safety in your old home... the memories that lives there before and now... you must have a loving parents, its a beautiful piece... keep writing!

[gobo]

Thank you for your kind words!