I sat down on the edge of my old narrow bed.

How strange it was to be at home in his old bed.

When everything had settled again, the spring was back in its old bed.

Never can that old bed have shook with such a storm before.

Here the river curved back to join its old bed.

Even though this was my old bed, I couldn't get comfortable.

He stared at the high old bed, his open suitcase.

In a corner of the room stood his old bed.

They stayed the night there, in the old bed, talking, making love.

My old bed had never held on to me harder.