The Paradise

It is one of those days.

Transported back from spring to winter.
The clouds weep like an adamant child.
Cold seeps through the windows into the heart.
The sweet spot under the quilt calls your name.
You cannot resist the warmth it promises.

Come to me, the bed calls you seductively.
It weakens your mind.
The body begs longingly, just get in.
You avoid the ultimatum until you cannot take it anymore.

Home.
The soft, fluffy quilt.
Roll, roll and roll the way up.
There you go, little burrito.
Tuck your toes and hold up to your nose.
Let the warm embrace you through.
Lay there still until you become a parcel of lamprais.
Dream of a holiday in paradise.

Roll from left to right then right to left.
The bed is your universe.
Stretch your body and tweak your toes.
Paradise is not anywhere else.
Here it is wrapped in a comfy quilt.