This one is not my best, but I'm including it anyway since I have a very limited supply of good poems. I think I wrote this one in the same long night of poetry as The Little Mermaid.
Princess and the Pea
Up the ladder, anticipating comfort,
I climb into the strangest of beds.
I'm glad I'm not afraid of heights
or I should not sleep for dread.
The twenty mattresses are firm,
the twenty eiderdowns soft,
but I just can't get comfortable
on this padded loft.
What is that lump?
I'm sure that I can feel
a rock under my back,
hard and sharp, and real.
What do they mean by putting me here?
Is this some kind of test?
They'll never see the princess in me,
if I get no beauty rest.
April 2002
No comments:
Post a Comment