Sometimes I sleep in a Light keeper’s bed
With my head on a pillow where he laid his head.
The bed frame grew rusty from the salty sea air
Where he slept in his room, off the steep winding stair,
In the tower on the cliff above storm swept black caves
and jagged black rocks that were pounded by waves.
The Light Keeper’s bed has been brought to my home
As it’s needed no longer above the sea foam.
No Keepers now keep the light burning at night
It’s all automated; no Look-Out in sight.
I brushed it and painted the two iron ends and
Found four old brass bed knobs so now it looks grand.
The bed is so comfortable I sleep the night through
Where I’m rocked into dreamland, to wake up fresh and new.
The Light Keeper’s lonely night keeping vigil
Kept him up through the dark ‘til in bed he could wriggle
To sleep through the day ‘til his duties called out
When his Watch-keeping buddies would give him The Shout.
I’m fond of my bed and the stories it keeps
It’s held many sleepers and so many sleeps.
In the Lighthouse, the Keepers were men, large and long
And the bed springs were stretched, but they held and stayed strong.
Now I snuggle up in its warm, creaky embrace,
and know I’ll sleep tight as I’m in the right place.
Alison McFaul
