Legs, Feets, Sheets

My bed is too small for my legs and all
My feet always hang off the end
It’s not wide at all from the side to the wall
I can only fit in one friend
It’s hard to lie down without bumping my crown
My pillow has hardly got room
And if I spill to the right in the still of the night
I crash on the floor with a boom

I wish my bed has thought ahead
And grown to be six-foot-four
But how would it know that I would grow
And stick out six feet more
I would invite you friend to crawl in and spend
Your sleep from the cold within
But my feet, I fear, stick out, my dear
My sheets are never tucked in

(A. Harn)

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