My bed feels so big and empty I keep waking up,
As the winter cold increases, the night wind blows on.
I toss and turn like a boat on the waves of far off seas,
I wish they were real to carry me off to distant shores.
So I could explore the world like the explorers of old,
Leave all to the chance of a tossed fifty pence piece.
With new sights, sounds, tastes and smells all at once,
But for now I must go back to sleep till the spring sings.
© Fi S. J. Brown