[28] Cottage Bed

I have slept in many beds
though I don’t remember all of them.
Not all of them were in my room,
not all of them were truly beds,
not all of them were significant
– or were they, since I bedded my head
and found sleep there?
I want to write about this
this place I am writing in
this place I am about to leave
where I watched beans grow
and myself.

Well, thoughts stray
they wander
back to a place
where I could hear the lake,
and see trees through the window,
hear their rustling mix with the waves,
where I would burrow
under sheets and blankets at night
to hide from the cold permeating the walls,
where my sleep smelled like iron
and lake-water
and mornings felt like dew on my eyelids
because the damp crept in.
It was a summer bedroom,
stolen hours of what I know remember
as part of childhood being
the way they write about in books.
Closing my eyes, I can almost
taste it.

 

Today’s prompt at NaPoWriMo.net was to write about a bedroom in our past or present. This is about a holiday bedroom.

Heute sollten wir ein Gedicht über ein Schlafzimmer aus unserer Vergangenheit oder Gegenwart schreiben. Meins war ein Urlaubs-Zimmer. Wunschdenken…