Brave Little Toasters Jania Stevenson

Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm pretty sure my owner is in love with me. I don't know if it's my gorgeously carved mahogany frame, or my soft, comfortable covers that keeps her coming back every night. Although she is here most of the time, a bed can still get lonely. I can't move, therefore I must sit here and stare at the same four walls day in and day out. I watch the sun rise and set through a window, never being able to go outside and see it for real. There's no one to talk to and so it gets kind of boring sometimes, and it's even more boring when she's not here some nights. She gets to go out and have fun while I sit here, never knowing for sure if she's actually going to show up. But I forget all stuff that when I see her smiling face walk through that bedroom door at night, or when she needs somewhere to cry when she's sad, or when she curls up into me and doesn't want to leave in the mornings. It all reminds me that this is truly where I belong, and that I wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here.