Brotherhood

We fought, we laughed, we wrestled in play. For years, on the very same bed we lay. Into the night, we'd whisper and quiver, under twenty quilts, we'd shiver. Mom would always tuck us in then the freezing cold began. By three AM, she'd soon arrive To see if we were still alive. We shared one bed. One closet, one chest On which our Hai Karate rest. Then summer came with heat and sweat. Whose pillow was whose, we'd often fret. Heat so hot, we bathed the sheets. A fly and gnat and mosquito feast. A window fan blew nice hot air. That wet and humid room we'd share. That 'antique' bed, it creaked and dipped. Under crispy sheets we slipped. Jokes were told; prayers were said. Thankful at least to share a bed. Thankful at least to have a bed.