Each week, once the sheets are dry,

And I am on one side and my wife the other,

We remake the bed in harmony

As we slip on the pillowcases

And stretch the bottom sheet corners,

Then again as we tuck in the top sheet

And smooth the quilt,

And last as we fix the pillows at bed’s head

And center the knitted throw at its foot.

One might say that for a half-century and more

We have made our bed, and we lie in it still.