Bed by Elizabeth Henry

 I love to touch my laundered sheet,

So warm and snug about my feet.

I love to sniff my pillow case –

A sweet Gardenia round my face.

And even though my blanket’s worn.

It stills and calms me till the morn.

 

I love to stroke my vintage quilt;

It’s patched and hued, and made of silk.

I love my dolly, worse for wear,

That sits beside my teddy bear.

I love my novel, though it’s frayed,

My hanky trimmed with lace brocade.

 

I love my creaky music box,

My dressing gown, my fluffy socks.

I love the portrait on my wall

Of granny in her crocheted shawl.

I love my crackly gramophone,

My blue enamel brush and comb.

 

I love my tarnished looking-glass –

A bleary relic from my past.

I love the runner on the floor,

The crooked hook upon the door.

I love to sip my morning tea,

Whilst listening to a purling sea.

 

But most of all, I love my bed –

A peaceful place to rest my head.