Lying in Bed

 

Early morning brings me to my senses,

another day to survive the madness of me.

Can I lie here some more?

It seems I’m flying this morning,

hovering over a mattress by one finger length,

rather than waking to a body full of splinters.

Today I’m suspended with dreamy voices

whispering angelic words of an ideal existence.

Can I lie here some more seems to be a fitting request.

 

Activities start in the house

cutlery crashing, children shouting.

I instantly land on a bed no longer soft.

It takes a few minutes of wriggling and pushing,

before I’m sat knowingly on the edge.

The solid wall reassures me whilst I find my legs

full of unsteady leaking sludge,

the floor doesn’t seem safe anymore.

My first steps are laboured,

sinking in potholes left in strategic places.

Slowly and tentatively I reach the chest of drawers

and enjoy its steady workmanship.

I grab a stick and tap into my day.