My weary head and aching bones,
Need a place to rest.
No accommodation really fits,
Or passes my comfort test.
Feeling like a sleepy cat,
Slowly circling a lap.
Searching for that proper spot,
To curl up for a nap.
It no longer fits me well,
That old usual stand-by.
Looking forward to the satisfaction,
Of some regular shut-eye.
Never knew how much I liked,
Sleeping in a bed.
It's not until I lost that spot,
That I got it through my head.
Comfort doesn't always mean,
Happy and healthy too.
It keeps me stuck in one place,
Knowing what I always knew.
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