Clean White Sheets Poem by Edwina Reizer

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.'