Creaking of Beds

That was the familiar creak
of the climbing into bed
a fleeting sound
on the reel.
A dusting off of both feet
swish swish
against one another
lights out.
Sinking into night
side by side but
lives and continents
apart.

Tired springs of
another bed shared
years earlier
monsters hid underneath.
In the night
I would leap over
the moat of painted floor
to avoid their reach.
Pull up covers, not dare to
look over the side of the bed
kept eyes from the looming closet
its door creaking alone.

Now it's just me
hauling myself up
into the high bed
vast ocean for one.
I set sail into dreams
push off the dusty shore
littered with books
and poetry.
I close the doors to
closets and sweep
the monsters from
under the bed.