I was told God made me a bed in heaven,
But I must eat dirt to get there.
But the bed was worth it.
Fluffy white and soft.
Little birdies that felt no pain losing their feathers.
A perfect cloud to sleep upon weightless.
Where there would be the accompaniment of a mandolin.
MARINA GIPPS
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bed-7/
