: I Toss!
My loss -a sprung spring within my bed.
I sleep little, I roll, I rock I try-
To escape this spine stabbing spring -I toss!
Relief I do not find, I try to sleep.
I toss! Yet, still it is my bed, just mine.
My bed is large there's room to move about,
This spring it finds my back to hurt again.
But still it is my bed, that I have made.
I cut the wood; I nailed the planks, just me.
I bent the wire as for my springs to make.
My mattress I sowed, stuffed with feather down.
The floor to be a kinder place to sleep.
I curse this spring, I toss! My bed I hate.
This bed but with one spring I broke; I curse.
I made this bed with out concern or care.
The blame to who belongs, my lack of rest?
I made my bed in which I lie and toss.
Copyright © Mike Samford | Year Posted 2007
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