Swinging open that door,
The one that always gets stuck.
Dropping everything.
That over-stuffed bag,
That thick pile of material that's supposed to be keeping you warm.
Everything.
Throwing off those cold weights on your feet,
Stripping down to your underwear and socks,
Cranking up the furnace until your toes have completely thawed.
Walking across the creaky old floor,
Until that fluffy duvet mess is in sight,
Waving at you,
Welcoming you.
The simple mattress that lay simply on the creaky old floor.
You dive into the white pool of blankets and pillows,
Swimming in glory and relaxation.
Better than words,
That good old welcome home feeling.
The blankets hug your silhouette as you stop,
Just stop,
And enjoy the simplicity that is this beautiful mattress.
Resting those acing bones and worn-out muscles.
Better than words.
YOU ARE READING
words like rivers
PoetryThe crappy poems I form in my head at random times. This probably won't even get published. I realized that it's not healthy for me to keep all these in my head all the time, so I put them in a book on here.
