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Beneath the boughs
where I rest,
from twilight to wee
hours, as my bed can attest.
Searching for sleep,
the night sounds a pest,
my legs thrashing
around, seeking refuge from mosquitoes with zest
.
Beneath the boughs
where I rest,
my co-tenant, the
squirrel had in the ceiling made its nest.
Of its gender I was
not certain nor did I show interest,
as a low thump told of
its arrival with today's heist.
Beneath the boughs
where I rest,
with buckets and
sundry cans in place, lest;
the leaking boards discharge
the rains in their trickle fest,
upon the cracked
floor, it's face now a mason's jest.
Beneath the boughs
where I rest,
tonight's shadow on
the wall seems clad in a vest.
And seemed to have
lips, swollen like a nursing breast,
a flash of light later
and it's my jumper hanging from the drawer chest.
Nnamdi Wabara.
Oh my gosh bro I don't know how anyone can sleep with mosquitos. Huh? By the way have you ever slept in a jumper (bounce castle) before? I have if you can do yourself a favor and do sleep in one! It's the worlds best inflatable mattress... (QMCI)
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