On the road at bottom of driveway
A large expanse of brown carpet
Like a straw bed in a barn's upper bay
Shared with another while you pet
But this was across paving for a stretch
Perhaps, a score of square feet, it fetched
Made up of dead pine needles criss-crossing
As the tree branches bared with their tossing
Making a plush, soft, velvety carpet underfoot
Giving the urge to just sprawl with a good book
And luxuriate in the softness assumed there to be
But knowing full well they're needles to you and me
And as such - will not be so very comfortable at all
For needles are sharp and tend to prick when they fall
So the urge to toss my body upon the soft brown bed
Left me just as quickly as the idea into head had sped
So I just gazed at the plush brown carpet as I walked over
And remembered those days in barns on real straw beds
Quietly smiling at those floating images of past lovers
Wanting to once again feel THAT brown carpet, instead.
- Tristram
(c) Christopher W. Thomas
9:35am Monday, Oct. 19th, 1998