My Bed Has Arms

A hard day's work on the farm,
I'm drenched in misery.
Good thing my bed has arms,
I'll go to sleep in tranquility.

My bed hugs me at night,
reminds me I'm not alone.
Despite its arms tight
my bed is cold as stone.

These arms don't embrace me
like other arms attempting,
but they comfort me strangely.
I hug closer. It's tempting.

My bed's arms don't feel,
but they're the key to my bliss.
For tonight I've decided
they have the final kiss.

Arms: weapons and ammunition.