O’My Pillow

When the hurt, the aches and the loss

Invade the days of our troubling life;

The burdens will drag their heavy cross,

Into the dark nights like a sharp knife.

We who toss and lie awake all nights,

Living nightmares in which hope dies;

Against the pillow we engage in fights,

Weary of the sick world that often cries.

There upon the top, the pillow rests,

Inviting so lovingly its restless guests;

Cottony, soft and comforting as best,

The love that shares its sleeping nest.

Its presence is beyond bed and mattress,

And the comfort they both may lay;

Without it, no bed is a resting fortress,

To ease and help the aching body per se.

The pillow is the denominator of love,

Two heads share it with loving hearts;

It affirms intimacies knitted from above,

And promotes closeness which it imparts.

We recognize its bonding to fullest extent,

Admiring its dream weaving with no taboo;

Reminding us of the beloved every moment,

Thus how can we sleep lest to it be glued.

I cherish the pillow for my love’s scent,

For caressing her hair and her face too,

For keeping her image as a full imprint,

Even when my love is away in curfew.

I’ll always treasure my inviting pillow,

On which I reminiscence along the way;

I rest on it my head as a loving fellow,

Reliving the joys and sorrows of the day.