MY BED

MY BED

From my bed I see the sky aflame

with evening sun and neon light, with

stars, and clouds. And sometimes raging wind

cries in ears, moans round the roof, whines

against the window pane.

From my bed I hear the cars below.

Their honking horn, impatient macho machines.

And bicycles with chattering children.

With parents pushing squeaking prams.

My bed is where I live. I write my days away.

My world is filled with words, images and sound,

but most of all with friends from everywhere

around.  Diverse and better than

the best panacea. I smile my days away.

My bed contains you all and I will never let you go. 

***

Poem by Darren White

October 27, 2016