The Traveling Mattress

“An Old Bedstead, Splintered And Worn”

It finally came to its end, the heavy weight

It could no longer bare.

Yesterday I finally made the

Decision to remove my mattress,

I won’t say how long

I have had it. It was one of those air beds

That have remote controls to inflate it.

I have moved several different

Places in the last few years

Taking it along.

When the right side started

Sinking and would not respond

To the inflater, I moved to the

Other side, hoping to extend its

Life quite a bit longer.

And then on the other side it began

To sink and I finally had

To say goodbye to a friend that had

Been with me through my highs and


In all our travels this mattress was faithful,

To the many places we have been.

In thinking about its

Presence, my protector,

I realized how it had held me

Through my many losses well

But with all the abuse, it was

Just too heavy to carry on.

It had listened to my dreams, holding

My pillow below my head, listeneing

To my fears, my anger and rage,

My prayers and regrets.

With its comforter warming

My body ravished

With harm,

Protecting me from the enemy,

Repelling it’s attacks

It bore a lot of fears and held my tears,

Holding my memories tight.

Is it hard to say goodbye to

Something like that, waiting

In the garage to go to trash?

Should I perform the last rites?

Who would attend, the only friend it

Had was me, until

It gave up its life.

Each of us have been given a

Different bed to sleep in,

Some good and some bad.


Living around mining towns,

I often have walked where

People have left their artifacts.

One I came across, was an

Old bedspring that had held a mattress.

It was rusted, and weeds had

Grown between the coils.

I was unable to pry a few loose to take

Home as a trophy for

All the hard work it had entailed.

I wondered about those springs and

Who they had held.

Had a newly wed pair conceived a child.

Or perhaps several more? How many

Bodies of the past, with dreams and

Confusions, tossing and turning in delusion.

Or perhaps held someone with an illness

With their last breath?

How long was the corpse to remain,

Before the undertaker came?

Did it set by the hearth holding an old

Woman, reminiscing, knitting and

Anticipating, of the last

Few years remaining?

Could it have held an old wooden

Bed frame splintered and warn?

I wish I could have taken them

Home and polished them up,

But some things cannot be

Retouched, they must stay as they are.

Hopefully another will come by and

Wonder as I, I must just let it lie.

I’ll say my goodbyes to

My friend of the past, and hope

My new mattress will be as good

As the last!

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