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

On Dead Sled Hill

On Dead Sled Hill
I sit stone still,
Smelling the thrill
When I choose Go!
I’m fit to ride
This mountain slide
Without a guide
To howls below.
I don’t need wheels!
My dream’s so real,
I’ll never feel
The cold winds blow.
I’m not too shy,
Not scared to die.
I’m set to fly!
I just need snow. 

© 2012 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

Impossible

Imagine a day
without the sun.
Imagine a circus
Without any fun.
Imagine ice cream
At every meal.
Imagine scrapes
You can’t even feel.
Imagine a train
Without a track.
Imagine a cat
Whispering back.
Imagine seconds
Standing still,
Imagine Jack
Without a Jill.
Imagine me—
The oldest.

© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved

Night Train

Sometimes late at night
I hear a train whistle,
Like a coyote howling  
At a moon too far to fetch.
I’ve never seen the tracks.
I’ve never seen the train.
Still I wonder who’s riding,
And if they’ll ever reach
What they’re wanting.

© 2011 Elizabeth Ehrenfest Steinglass, all rights reserved