Clean Flannel Sheets

Clean sheets.
Clean flannel sheets.
Blue-striped flannel sheets.
Just put on the bed.

I peel back the top layer of
Smooth blue-striped flannel, and crawl in.
Soft cloth against my cold feet.
I spread my legs out over the bed
Under the covers.
The warmth soaks in quickly,
Gives me immediate comfort.
The flannel presses gently against
My cheek on the pillow.
I am content.

My mind slowly begins to melt
To stop racing at ninety miles an hour;
To stop its chatter that seems to never stop.
It is a gift to sleep on flannel sheets.
Clean, flannel sheets.

Clean flannel sheets respond to
My body’s need to be held on nights
When I am alone.
On nights when I want to be quiet
But my mind doesn’t seem to get it,
And keeps on badgering me,
Until at last, I stop fighting it.
Clean, flannel sheets make it easier.

Clean, flannel sheets envelope my body
Softly, warmly, so my mind has
Nothing to fight.
My body, in turn, begins to
Comfort my mind.
Finally, amid those clean, flannel sheets,
My mind takes the pleasure offered
And sinks into the pillow,
And, like falling silk, lands quietly, to sleep

Clean flannel sheets are a cocoon
For my body on cold nights.
They hold me and don’t talk back.
They ask for nothing
Save my body pressed against their layers.

Clean, flannel sheets comfort me all night,
Long after my chattering mind has quieted,
And I forget, in sleep that they hold me still.

In the morning, upon awakening
There they are, warmer
Than the night before,
Softly wrapped across my back.

Clean flannel sheets make wonderful lovers.
They are always there
When you wake up.

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