who is by my bed? (114)
What is this feeble voice by my improvised bed?
whose voice is this at this untimely hour?
Do they wonder? Are they curious?
Is he a man, tall and handsome?
or dark, ugly, covered
or curled up underneath a blanket?
A cherub with “light fantastic toe”,
with a magic wand doing jugglery,
is he your legally married husband?
or nocturnal visitor incognito?
A playboy to saunter about?
He is cutely curled up caring me ever,
Not phony, a pleasant bug,
who expects me to be at his beck and call,
commanding and demanding,
He does not care if you are in the kitchen
or at the dining table, or at the bath,
makes me irksome at times,
Curious and eager to attend to him betimes,
I even drag him where ever I go,
sometimes he is ignored by me,
Does n’t he sound a conundrum?
He is my phone, my telephone,
Bridging the void from afar,
For time and distance
Between east and west
Set right by my handy set.
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