Often Changing Beds
The bulb trickles it’s orange tint,
Around the frosted room,
Knowing I should have paid less,
I switch off and drift in to gloom.
In dreams I find myself wishing,
Craving, chasing after,
Never catching a desired prize,
E’en when I chase a little faster.
Waking frustrated and lowsy,
It’s too late to lie in,
My time in here is up now,
I go gladly. Outward I grin.