I was in a court accused,
with my bed as a witness,
I’d have no defence.
In my bed I’ve cried out heartaches.
Prayed prayers of a child, curses of teenage
Lamentations of youth and joys of life.
If only my bed spoke.
Many dreams and longings I don’t want known.
It would mention characters of my dream by name.
Perhaps draw the faces of those frequenting my dreamland.
It would clarify to many, clear many doubts I want to remain .
I would be defenseless.
Those nights I started a prayer and said Amen in the morning.
My bed would say of my sleepless nights hugging a pillow.
It would reveal my deepest longings,
When two paths unfolded before me and I didn’t know which way.
Love letters read and written under the blankets .
Hid under the pillow, whispered to the night only.
My bed would still say.
Lastly my bed would shock me.
It would say even what I don’t know.
That which happens when I’m dead asleep.
Oh if only my bed spoke.