Rumpled Beds Poem by Josephine Dunn

Rumpled lives we live and leave
From the time that we’re conceived,
Rumpled lives and rumpled beds
Start with a f*** and end in death.
From husbands old who we deceive
To lovers new who we believe,
Our rumpled beds do tell the tale
Of evenings drinking to much ale.
They show the marks where we have lain
And write our history very plain.
If we have spent the night apart
One side is rumpled, the other naught,
When we have spent a night in glory
Rumpled beds tell a different story.
A heap of bedding on the floor,
A trail of clothes lead from the door,
Our weary limbs are all a tangle,
Sheets so wet they need a mangle.
Other nights we kiss and cuddle,
Curled so tight there is no muddle,
No rumpled bed, just one round ball
A curve of duvet that snuggles all.
And when you’re feeling cold and blue,
A rumpled bed will comfort you,
Shivering hot and cold and full of ills,
Drinking Lem-sip to wash down doctors pills.
You rest you head on pillows crisp and white,
Pray your God will see you through the night,
And hope to dream of lovers true
Who in the morning come to you
With cups of tea and plates of toast
To say it’s you they love the most.

November 2001