In which you lay
a toiling day
you to stay.
Some days you are
strong always
when so young
immortal though
thou say.
Comfort in your bed
pillows so soft
comforter there
for they
whom would
talk.
Spill your dreams
let your eyes drift
off into the stream
of life
as you lay
in your bed
so soft.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Made Are The BedsI like it