On the most tumultuous of nights
there’s a safe, warm cave
I crawl to.

Blankets, not heavy enough, hold me down
when I shake
pillows embrace, but can not
grasp my hand
the tapestry is a breaker for the waves
that threaten my grip
fish lights floating,
glowing like a promise
are the beacon that reminds me:

Hope is not lost at sea.

Sara Waalkes

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bottom-bunk/