Literature
Worlds Without
The bed awaited each morning with joy, For we let spring spill on the sheets— Just a tad whenever we woke up. Ours weren't playdates of note, Rather daffodils unencumbered with The expectations of prickless beauty. As the cradle looked in approval, Our happy chuckles gave it purpose, Then we bloomed, unbothered and true. We appear quiet in the vastness without— but our content faces speak volumes. For the bed, the covers, and the air around shelter all core memories in this room of ours.