Making the bed

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Once I left beds- rumpled with the print
of sleeping bodies, the aftermath of love-
untouched all day.

But now I never fail to make the bed.
A point of honour.
Duvet shaken, pillows set in order,
the undersheet, twitched straight and smoothed
flat as a blank page

ready to receive
my dream-self, the one who brushes past me
each morning when I wake, and when I sleep.

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3 thoughts on “Making the bed

  1. In days gone by, before the ease of duvets, my bed was remade (had to be) until it resembled a pristine envelope ready to receive me each evening and post me to sleep. Now with quilts, it is no longer a necessarily and indeed, often lies neglected and unmade.

    That said the dream me continues to exist as she did so long ago, entering my mind, filling my thoughts as soon as my head hits the pillow…I love her (escape) as I do your words.

    Anna :o]

    • That’s really kind.I’m so pleased you liked it. I’m writing about all sorts of day to day things at the moment- weeding, lighting the fire..simple, everyday things have a deeper resonance, I feel. Thanks again.

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