The Ballad of the Nightstand

I would choose to write an ode

but ten line stanzas feel too much

for my achy joints and stuffy head

and this cold medicine in my cup

———————————————

So instead I write a ballad

as the form forgives my flaws

sneezing here in my bed

using tissues without pause

———————————————-

the nightstand doubles as a savior

a patient server holding my things

water, tea, humidifier,

the books of poetry that beg to sing

————————————————-

it listens to my endless complaints

as I toss and turn and grumble

impassive to my worst moods

that start when my health stumbles

—————————————————

it does not know my gratitude

during work hours spent alone

when only dogs keep my company

and everyone else has left home

—————————————————-

my nightstand is the unsung hero

until end of day when family returns

bearing my burdens with grace

solidly standing at my side, in place – Caroline A. Slee