Bed Dangles

As carefree kids we play,Fosbury-flopped on top of bed
You in Keds, me in tee shirt and faded jeans.
Sunday Sun works its way between
Blinds, curtains, and seams drawn shut.

With tired squeaks, a wing nut seeks
To be replaced, here, in the shadow of the house.
Sunlight pokes into cracks and corners;
Between crevices, edging into
The sprinkle of a rain-faded day.

Belly-bound, but I've still found mistakes
And unfinished business better left undone
And the wing nut still speaks out.

Mold and mildew repeat and then retreat
after the rain is washed away. Still, we
lie in repose, stripped of clothes
And her Popsicle toes, almost always
Froze keep me from falling
Too far towards sleep.

The weekend drifts off and so do we; tomorrow
Bings the fold of a new week, with new treasures to seek
And new memories to hold.