Springtime

My mattress, a twin, once felt grand and spacious
As the night ahead of me,
As I lay tucked in, head resting near cool window,
Buried in white comforters,
Replaying the happy moments of the day, the people and places
like tenacious children that don’t forget a thing like to do
Time to be mad and list the reasons in my head very seriously
To think about my best friends, and my just kind-of friends
The odds and evens of my family
Like a math problem I’m anxious to figure out,
It’s more fun not completely knowing the answer.
Now I know I’m going to miss you very much,
And I didn’t even really think about it until now
When I was lying in bed.
The fall seemed deep and dark and gorgeous like the night
Blooming with life and color color color
The spring is sterile
The mattress feels uncomfortable and hospital-like
My toes scraping the other end
I enjoy the morning now,
I like the way it’s busy and coffee-filled
I like that I tap my phone and I see the time
But I remembered just now
About lying in bed
Thinking how precious the night
Like a bow-tied gift of silence and eternity
When some voice, some friend from inside could lull you to sleep
or talk to you until morning.

—By Noa Greenspan