In My Bed I Lie

March 5, 2012
By Poetic_Person GOLD, Shippensburg, Pennsylvania
Poetic_Person GOLD, Shippensburg, Pennsylvania
18 articles 8 photos 40 comments

The stars roll above me,
Twenty moons to my right.
Hopes of every little girl’s heart
Plunders into this night.

Look there,
Is a princess,
Singing on a chair.
She wears a gown of yellow
And a crown upon her hair.

Below me sits a thousand armies,
My hearing must be impaired.
For all have gained their battle scars,
Yet not a sound they have blared.

I shoot into the cloudless blanket,
Many wonders fade and fall,
But still stands an apple tree,
It’s branches are very tall.

A ribbon drops from its berry;
Such golden, ripened things
Many children now carry
To the silent battle kings.

They do not mind its hardness,
Just its fragrance and sheer joy.
Should one settle for something less,
It would be a child’s toy!

The faded scrap of felt,
Hangs loosely from the tree,
From which the winter melts
And forms puddles of sweet green tea.

Now the children of the skies,
Come and sip it up.
It makes them tell horrid lies,
And scream into a cup.

Suddenly it’s cracking,
The tree begins to wilt,
Sending the children packing
And me beneath my quilt.

The stars above are fading,
Moons slowly jade.
Her majesty’s cascading,
Her chair is not of aid.

The warriors become a struggle,
One of live or die,
The blanket folds around me,
There in my bed I lie.

The author's comments:
This poem is mysterious. When I first wrote it, it had no meaning to me — atleast none I was aware of. In fact, about a year after I wrote this, did I discover what "In My Bed I Lie" truly symbolized to me.

Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.



SciArc

MacMillan Books

Aspiring Writer? Take Our Online Course!