Beneath my bed

I’d wake up in the morning with a smile on my face
My mind racing with thoughts about things that I want to phrase 
A bird I’d seen, a dish I’d made
A song I’d buried in, a joke I’d read
I’d wait for the moment; A little opportunity if I’d find
Replaying those stories like a projector in my mind
The day would turn into night; The sky waning away from light
I’d lay down upset; My heart not so much at rest
The birds, the stories, the jokes and songs would then be all dead
And they’d simply get buried beneath my bed!