This mattress once was new and bright,
But now, it’s not so great.
For under sheets of pristine white
The sleeping spring awaits.
And though the bedding’s crisp and new
When I lay me down to sleep,
The mattress hidden from my view
Should be on a garbage heap.
It’s stained and tattered, bruised and torn,
Its springs are snapped and broken.
And I suffer there till dewey morn.
(Harsh words are often spoken!)
With back in spasm, to sleep I cling,
My dreams are few . .
. and hazy,
Some tears are shed, my hands - I wring.
I’m slowly going crazy.
Tonight, I’ll drink raspberry
wine
A quite indulgent habit,
Then into my blankets,
serpentine,
I’ll curl up like a rabbit.
‘Cause you know, the time has come, I’m tired
Of sleeping on a cactus.
I’ll, with the morn, at last retire
My meatloaf of a
mattress.
My good friend, Delores of Under the Porch Light has done it again.
Presented us with our weekly conundrum of six words and/or phrases designed to challenge - or stupefy.
This week, we have:
Spasm, meatloaf, raspberry wine, clinging,
serpentine, indulgent
-and/or-
Under sheets of pristine white
The sleeping spring awaits.
Delores, you're such a tease . . .
Oh you clever girl, using "spring" that way :)
ReplyDelete*blush* Thank you, Jenny! :)
DeleteHaha, well done! Just in case this post has a bit of truth behind it, I should mention that we sprang for a Tempurpedic and have not been at all sorry. :)
ReplyDeleteHmmm . . . I will definitely be keeping that in mind! :)
DeleteWell done.
ReplyDeleteThanks so much, Susan! :)
DeleteYou sprung that one on us....great job.
ReplyDeleteI did rather 'spring' that on you. Sorry! :)
DeleteI love this!!
ReplyDeleteI tried to think of something involving white sheets, but my mind just wouldn't go there.
Yeah. I totally understand. My mind goes only where it wants to . . .
DeleteSuch a treat to catch up--and find your poetry!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Carol! So glad you enjoyed it! :)
DeleteNot only creative this time with words - but the photo is priceless!
ReplyDeleteSomeone who definitely knows what we suffered . . .
Delete