My Bed

My bed is not for sleeping.
It’s my special place to be.
I come here when the person
I need most to see is me.
My bed is where I curl
To read a brand-new book,
So I can make a friend,
Or go someplace to look.
My bed is a swirl of blankets
That makes a cozy nest.
I burrow here when I’m lonely
And I don’t feel quite my best.
My bed is like a stage
Where I give myself a prize
For doing all the things
No one knows I tried.
My bed is just for me.
There’s no one here to play.
My bed is where I take myself
When I’ve nothing good to say.
My bed is a waiting ship
That I can sail alone,
Exploring distant lands
Where the sun has never shone.
My bear lives on my bed
And sheds her worn gray fuzz.
Sometimes I like to visit her
And the self that I once was.
My bed has a magic view.
If I look out past my feet,
I can see my grown-up self,
Walking down the street.
My bed is perfectly comfy.
When each long day is done,
I snuggle here to dream
Of the day that’s soon to come.


© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

6 replies
  1. Tara says:

    My bed has a magic view.
    If I look out past my feet,
    I can see my grown-up self,
    Walking down the street.

    Perfect! Sometimes my grown up self just need to take to my bed and escape to childlike ways once again. Thanks for sharing this, Liz!

  2. Linda at teacherdance says:

    all those good things about a bed are in your poem. Nice to hear the coziness come through, along with the thoughts that happen in that quiet time, not just with children either. Nice to ‘hear’.

  3. Kathleen says:

    Dear Liz,

    Lovely poem! Makes me think of my youngest child. His bed is his ship too, and his country and his stage.

    Kathleen

Comments are closed.