When we were kids, my mom hung a poster over our bed.

Noah's room is blue; instead of a nurse to watch him, there's a toy dinosaur hanging over his bed.

The other has to do with the two portraits that hang over Jackson's bed.

The shield which had hung over Breaca's bed was brought forward, still in its covering.

"I'll probably hang him over my bed," she said.

But whose colour-print portrait was hanging over his bed and looking at him?

All these things were hung on the wall, over the boy's bed.

I shivered, thinking of the painting that had hung over my bed in the cellar.

I'd have found one and hung it over my bed.

"What would not my old mother give to have it hung over her bed?"