Feb 16, 2015

600px-Lavender_Field_7433821140As I grow older, the mattress grows heavier,
yet still how I loathe a bed whose sheets
no longer feel crisp, whose scent
is no longer of lavender or thyme
but of too many nights passed
pondering why,
what next, when, how.

In three clean sweeps the bed is stripped,
blankets in the corner, linens on hot.
And, now, out come new clothes –
white cotton, lace collar.
Pretty as a dolly my bed soon looks,
pillows arranged just so.

Perhaps tonight I will sleep
the night through.
Perhaps tonight
the secret – how to remake life
as easily as you remake a bed –
will startle me awake,
though still deeply I dream,
and, come morning, I will arise
now knowing

that this can only happen
once I accept
that it can’t.




Copyright © 2015 “Surrender” by Jenine Baines


Photo of lavender, top right, by xlibber (Lavender Field  Uploaded by russavia) [CC BY 2.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons.

Photo of sunrise, by Moise Nicu (Own work) [CC BY 3.0 (], via Wikimedia Commons




Find more of Jenine’s poems, writings, and musings at

Enjoy more of her work in “Write Here”:
Scribblings: Week 15
Scribblings: Week 14
Scribblings: Week 13
The Rabbit in the Moon
Sorrow Tree
The Deflowering of Silence
The Morning the Egg ExplodedToo Beautiful
May I Have This Last Dance, Mr. Banana Nose?
Into the Bay Forever
No Two Blades of Grass
How Long Is Never?
Golf Course

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