The Storm Bed Three Poem by Bill Grace

In the good orphonage far from her present land
She slept in the great room with eleven others
And was protected by soup far more than the hamburg
Which is her present delight.

After the storm of the day where she learned again
That she can have much but can not have it all
Came the storm of nature's night
With terror adequate for a child of nine
My wife granting sanctuary in our bed.
In morning daughter informs I was snoring
But I only remember small cold feet upon my skin
And foggy gratitude to what ever that force in the Universe may be
That this of all evenings was not a night for sleeping in the buff.