Half the pillows
Upon my bed
Are never used
To rest my head.
I stay just on
The side I sleep
The floor below
My slippers keep.
I have no cause
To cross the line
It’s been that way
For quite some time.
The covers stay
So nicely pressed
The taught white sheets
Are never messed.
Perhaps one day
I’ll toss and turn
With love and lust
And fury burn.
To toss the sheets
Both far and wide
The way I did
With my new bride
When she would pull
Me deep inside
And passion took
Us on a ride.
Maybe that half
Serves as a shrine
An untouched ode
To better times.
One night I think
When lights are dim
I’ll go around
And slip right in.
Then nestle deep
As sleepers do
To see my room
From this new view.
Peter Savigny is a 25-year art director in television turned poet and sculptor. He is an avid change artist and experientialist. (timestories.com)