The Bed

Making my own bed I recall my dad
Who now needs help to make his bed, who made
His bed the way my mother had directed,
Tucking this in like that, aligned just so.
He has no reason after she has died
To make the bed that way, and yet he does.
You meet these other persons who fold clothes
Odd ways, and you try to correct them, though
There’s no hope as their weird, ridiculous
Habits extend to odd hours, serious
Differences like breakfast cereals,
Baths versus showers, everything you know
To be done right the way you learned — that’s why
We make our beds the way we live our lives.