Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem



   Why do we make beds?
   Every night I get back in.
   Slide into sheets cool and thin.
   Strech out across the bed,
   Tossing and turning,
   Even my head.
   My bed is so neat and clean,
   My Momma makes my bed,
   Probably so I can dream.
   Every day I jump right up,
   Ready to leap for joy.

   Except for the day Momma said she would teach me to make my bed!

  Momma said, " Make your bed,
                         So, it's ready when you lay your head."

   I don't get how the sheets do lay,
   How the corners get tucked,
   And stay that way.

   So, waiting until Momma leaves the room,
   Flip sheets and blankets up to the moon.
   Smooth blankets across it all.
   Look from across the hall,
   The wrinkles are covered,
   And out of sight.
   Momma won't see it until tonight.

   Making beds was never my skill,
   Until I learned a new way.
   Gives me such a thrill!

   Simply sleep on top.
   At the break of day,
   Leap up!
   Smooth a few wrinkles out,
   The bed is made for a week or a day!

   Momma was very proud.
   She said I learned fast to make my bed every day!

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