Tucked In

This sleeping bag- not mine, mind you-
Has a safety pin stuc in it
Which, ironically, seems very unsafe.
I am tucked in, in a lodge
in a bed, under a blanket
that feels like stuffed-animal hydes.
Tucked in, in the woods with a lake
and a book of epic poetry
and a patchwork quilt on the wall.
I love patchwork quilts- I must
ask my mother to teach me to
make one this summer.
I drank black tea from London
So black that it left stains
All up and down the inside of my
Seaside-themed ceramic cup.
That boy is not here.
Tucked in in the woods,
Romance is nowhere to be found.
But He, so long missing,
He, long-haired and sandal-footed,
I think He might be.