General

When the stars come out to play and the evening takes on that aroma of the night, when the crickets sing for the joy of living, my bed awaits. I love the softness, the quiet, the sense of rest. My thoughts slow as a beautiful carousel, each dancing as ribbons from a kite string that reaches for sky, its colours embracing those lofty heights and inviting in the dreams that wear festival costumes and are formed of music. As I rest my bed is the four pillars beneath me, my safe place and cozy serenity.

General

She reverently rubbed her fingers along the silken mattress. She pressed her cheek to the cool, velvet pillows. The comforter was thick and irresistibly soft, like a billowing cloud. She toppled into it, relieved to rest her weary feet. Warmth and darkness enveloped her. She soon succumbed to the call of sleep.

By Liz Newsom, May 30, 2014.
General

I drive commuters to and from the train station in my bus. I sometimes think of the of my bus as a giant four-wheeled bed.

By mikeb, May 26, 2012.