Clean white sheets

Clean white sheets upon my bed
cradle my body but not my head.
My head's never cradled. It's too full.
It's too noisy. There is no lull.

I wash them routinely every week.
If I hung them outside the neighbors would speak.
Their words would complement the sight
of clean white sheets I use at night.

But they don't know how I'm awake
and how those sheets never give me a break.
I make the bed up and I think
'If only I could catch a wink.'

I'd praise those sheets on every day
and finally I'd be able to say.
'Clean white sheets upon my bed
you've found a way to cradle my head.'

poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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