Off to Bed Again

How did another day
Pass so quickly?
Every one is like a playing card
Being shuffled into the deck,
Each so much the same,
Each slightly different.

I lie down in the same bed,
Next to my sleeping husband,
Look out the same window
At the same dark sky.

Why do I feel such comfort
In this simple routine?

It’s as if I already know
That someday,
Circumstances being much worse,
I will look back
On these thousand soft bedtimes
And realize
That this was the best it got.

Even on a bad day,
There is this pillow,
These cool sheets,
This snoring husband
And these blessed, blessed ear plugs.

By Maria Brady-Smith

Photo by Mike Smith