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
Lows.
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!
Donna's Poetry Blog 